Page 71 of Claiming the Pack’s Omega (Riverwell Omegaverse #2)

"Well, those were an awful lot of questions you threw at me. If you're trying to insinuate that I've seduced the Graylock Pack to take care of me, then you're mistaken," I say.

The fact that I'm not cowering in front of him seems to frustrate the alpha, if his continued, aggressive pacing is any indication.

Welcome to the club. Seems we both piss each other off.

"Did they not help relocate, not only yourself, but your family to the Northside?"

"They did."

"Do you not have a sexual relationship with them?"

Theo's jaw clenches and I see that he's getting ready to object to the question, but I just send him another wave of reassurance through our bond.

I can handle this.

I may be new to Northside dynamics, but I do know one thing. They're the ones who actually believe in scent matches.

"Yes, I do," I nod.

Mr. Buckland grins maniacally like he's just won.

"Do you not see the issues here?" He asks, spreading his arms wide.

I swear, he's fighting the urge to spin in a circle like he's a ring master at a circus and the audience here is here to watch a blood bath.

"A Southside prostitute, whoring herself out to the most powerful pack on the prosecution's team, who we're expected to believe as a witness? "

"Objection, your honor, he's harassing the witness," Theo says, his voice deceptively even. I can feel the pulsing fury through our bond. It's coming from all of my mates.

"Sustained," the judge sighs, like he's already exhausted. "Mr. Buckland, you will rephrase your question."

"With all due respect, your honor, I don't feel I need to. I'm just saying the truth, nothing more, nothing le?—"

"I can answer the question," I say, interrupting him.

I'm so angry I can feel my heartbeat in my fingertips. There's a hot flush to my face that I feel pushing up to the tips of my ears. I can't parse where my anger begins and where my mates' anger ends.

"I don't see the issue, Mr. Buckland," I say, my voice saccharine sweet. "I think there's nothing wrong with my relationship with the Graylock Pack."

Mr. Buckland throws his head back laughing. There are a few quiet chuckles throughout the courtroom from people who seem to support the defense's side. I make it a point to try and memorize all their faces of the men and women who do.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. I'm sure it's because you think I'm stupid.

You've already written me off." They all have.

The entire audience. They underestimate me just because of where I'm from.

Just because of what I've done to survive.

"It's obvious to me that based on your questions, your research on the Graylock Pack and me is outdated and shallow. "

My gaze never drops from his. I let him see some of the anger I feel. The pulsing, unadulterated fury.

His eyes go wide.

"What in the world are you talking about?" He huffs

I'm not nearly as experienced in a courtroom as Theo is, but I don't even need our bond to be able to tell how surprised he is. Looks like Mr. Buckland here isn't put on the defensive very often.

"They're my scent matches, Mr. Buckland," I say. Even though I'm addressing him, I know I'm speaking to the entire audience right now. I start undoing the top button of my blouse. "They're also my bonded mates."

Gasps ripple through the courtroom as I tug the shoulder of my blouse down to reveal the bondmarks on my neck. I make sure to do so on the side that faces the judge so he gets to see them too.

"The circumstances that brought us together were unconventional, but I don't think even you would say that those circumstances should keep scent matches apart. Do you have any more questions for me, Mr. Buckland?"

His face grows red as he sputters.

It's a glorious sight, seeing him so angry he can't even string together a single sentence. His partner clears his throat and gestures for Mr. Buckland to return to their desk. After a couple of seconds of their fervent whispering, the judge clears his throat.

"Is there any issue with the defense?" The judge asks. He sounds exasperated, which doesn't seem like a very good sign, at least for the defense.

Theo, on the other hand? He's trying to hide his smirk.

Mr. Buckland makes one last comment to the other defense lawyer before he stands tall, tugging at the lapels of his suit jacket to straighten it out.

"Yes, apologies, your honor," he says, clearing his throat. "We're ready to continue."

"Good, we do not have all day."

The skin around Mr. Buckland's eyes tightens as he bites his tongue before he turns his fiery gaze towards me. He returns to pacing back and forth in front of the witness stand.

"Regardless of your status with the Northside pack, this case is about omega trafficking. Some incredibly serious accusations have been brought against some of the most esteemed members of our society. These are people who have helped shape the Northside into the powerhouse that it is."

He's gone back to monologuing for the audience. There's no question there for me to answer. I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes.

"Ultimately," Mr. Buckland continues. "You've said very clearly that you chose to work the job that you did.

You've said that many of the other girls you worked with chose to work these jobs.

When I imagine trafficking, I imagine an omega being kidnapped and whisked away into the night.

That's not what's happening here. Based on that definition, you were never trafficked, correct? "

I want to punch him in the face. I want to throw myself over this witness stand and tear him apart.

"Are you kidding me?" My voice is dripping with disgust. I'm holding onto the last threads of professional decorum by the tips of my fingers.

"You've complained that I've been asking unclear questions, Ms. Carver. I would argue that question was as straightforward as I could make it."

Yeah, right, he gave a whole speech before asking me a stupid question.

"By that narrow definition, no, I wasn't trafficked," I grit out. "But by the normal definition, which includes coercion as well as force, yes. I was. So were all those girls. Do you know how much the minimum wage is, in the Southside of Riverwell?"

"I don't think it's appropriate for you to be asking me questions, Ms. Carver, that's not how things work around?—"

"Seven twenty-five an hour," I snap, interrupting him.

"I'll tell you, right here and now, there aren't very many people on the Southside making much more than that.

Do you know how hard it is to survive on seven dollars and twenty-five cents an hour?

Fucking hard. Almost impossible, considering how ridiculously high the cost of living is because of the legislation that you Northside fuckers have passed over the past decade and a half. "

"Language!" Mr. Buckland snarls. "I will not be disrespected in this courtroom, I?—"

"I'll use whatever fucking language I want," I snap, glaring at him. "Do you know how much the club I worked for charged for my time?"

I shake my head as a bitter laugh leaves my throat. I don't know why I'm bothering to ask questions they won't know the answers to.

"Three hundred and seventy-five bucks an hour.

You know how much of that money I saw? A hundred at most. If a Southside omega chooses not to register with the Northside, our career opportunities are already limited.

We can't apply for any of the scholarships for any form of higher education, which means we're all stuck working in the Southside.

And Northside fuckers like you know that.

The only people who can afford to see girls like me were Northsiders. "

It's my turn to monologue now. No one seems to know what to do with my reaction. The audience in the pews are starting to whisper to each other. I guess they've never seen an omega as pissed off as I am right now.

There's nothing small or demure about me. If it would get my point across better, I'd pull a page out of Milo's book and fight tooth and nail—literally—but for now, I guess I'll have to settle for yelling at them all.

"I know what you're doing. You're trying to blame the existence of these clubs on the Southside omegas who work there, but I'm not going to let you do that. Because I know that's not the truth."

My knuckles are white as I grip the edge of the witness stand.

"It's obvious to anyone with eyes and ears, but I'll spell it out for you all.

What do you do if you want to take control over an underground Southside omega trafficking ring?

You make the registration process unattractive, so you have all these vulnerable, young omegas who don't want to be ripped away from their families.

Then, you give them a way to support their families just enough so that they're in a better position, but not enough for them to ever leave on their own.

So now they're trapped, coerced into continuing to sell their bodies. "

Mr. Buckland's jaw is opening and closing like a fish out of water. Looks like I've stumped him.

I can feel the pride from all four of my mates pouring through the bond, but I purposely keep my gaze locked on the defense lawyer in front of me. If I look at my mates, I'm worried I'm going to break down.

I feel a bone-deep exhaustion starting to settle in. I guess losing my cool like that, in front of a room full of hostile Northsiders, has taken it out of me.

"Do you have any further questions for the witness, defense?"

"N—no, your honor. The defense rests."

"Very well." The judge turns to the side, looking down at me. For the first time, since I entered the courtroom, I can finally read some sort of expression on his face. It almost looks like... pride? "Ms. Carver. Thank you for your time. You are now released by the court."

"Thank you, your honor," I say.

A bailiff appears by my side and ushers me towards the same hallway I was brought into the courtroom from. I glance over my shoulder at my mates and offer them a little smile and a wave.

I flinch at the noises the reporter's cameras make as they take pictures of me leaving. God, am I glad to be done with this.

I have a feeling that I've completely changed my life, though, after today. The world knows that I'm bonded to one of the most talked-about Northside packs. They also know exactly who I am. The good and the ugly.

"Is there a restroom I can use?" I ask the bailiff. I'm probably going to be stuck in a room, waiting for the proceedings to wrap up so that I can leave with my pack.

"Sure," he nods.

He leads me down another windowless back hallway and to a women's restroom. Once I'm done with my business, I step back out into the hallway and freeze.

"Don't move," A voice I don't recognize growls.

Aimed right at my head is the barrel of a gun.