Page 11 of Omega’s Fever (Prime Match #2)

By lunch, we have selected half our jury members and none of them looked at me like they’d already made their minds up. My omega is damned good at what he does. I feel a surge of pride.

During the lunch break, Milo finally speaks to me. Sort of.

“The witness list.” He slides a paper across the table without looking up. “These names were added.”

I scan the document. There are another dozen names added to the list along with two I did not want to see. My blood goes cold. “Penelope Evans and Damon Reynolds.”

“They may have relevant testimony.”

“They have nothing to do with this.” The words come out harsher than intended. “Pen was just a dancer. Damon fought, same as me. They’re clean.”

““Then they can support your version of events.”“ Milo’s voice is carefully neutral.

“My version?” I lean forward. He shifts back.

“That’s what we’re trying to establish.”

“Not them. They’re good people. They’ll get—” I stop myself.

Milo’s pen stills against his legal pad. “Get what? Hurt?”

“Nothing.”

“If there are threats—”

“I said no.”

Milo finally looks at me. The impact is immediate. My chest tightens. Every protective instinct I possess roars to life because he looks exhausted and fragile and I put those shadows under his eyes. I want to hold him. I open my mouth.

“Don’t.” The word cracks like a whip. He looks away again. “Just... don’t.”

The afternoon session continues. More jurors, more questions. Milo works through them mechanically, but I notice the way he keeps touching his temple like his head hurts.

I’m not sure what’s wrong with him. An omega without his alpha struggles but this is more than that. He looks seriously ill.

By the time we’ve selected twelve jurors and two alternates, it’s nearly five o’clock. Milo stands to pack his briefcase. The movement is too fast. He sways slightly, catches himself on the table. What the fuck is wrong with him?

And that’s when the penny drops. He’s on suppressants, the real bad stuff. He’s doing this so he can keep representing me. No. I’m not letting him do this.

I put my hand up. “Your Honor?”

Melkham rolls his eyes. “You put your requests through your attorney, Mr Hayes.”

“I’d like to request a different attorney. This isn’t working out. He’s clearly unwell. Just give me whichever poor asshole is next on the rota.”

Melkham’s mouth tightens. He looks from me to Milo. “Mr Warren, approach the bench”

Milo gives me a cross look then walks to the bench. Their conversation is hushed, but I catch fragments. “Contempt” and “final warning” and “professional responsibility.”

When Milo returns, his face is even paler. He doesn’t look at me but he shakes his head.

The judge looks down at his notes. “Finally, Mr Warren. I see you have filed a motion to reconsider bail for your client. Did you do this just to tick the box so it can be denied or did you have a real reason for filing?”

That gets everyone’s attention. Sutter shoots to her feet. “Objection! The defendant is a flight risk with a history of violence—”

“A history of being attacked in prison.” Milo’s voice gains strength. “I have documentation of seventeen separate incidents in the past four weeks. All of them instigated by other inmates. All of them resulting in my client defending himself without throwing a single first punch.”

Seventeen? I lost count after ten. I glance over at him. He really is trying. None of my previous defenders bothered challenging the bail order. That won’t have been in the file passed from defender to defender either. He’ll have been in contact with the prison.

He’s actually doing his job, even when we both know it’s in his own best interests to get me locked away,

Judge Melkham frowns. “These are serious allegations, Mr. Warren.”

“They’re not allegations. They’re fact. The warden’s own reports confirm that Mr. Hayes is being systematically targeted.”

“Your Honor,” Sutter interjects, “the defendant is charged with running a criminal enterprise. He has connections, resources—”

“What resources?” Milo’s laugh is bitter. “Have you seen his bank statements? He lives paycheck to paycheck. His arraignment bond was set at two million dollars, which he obviously couldn’t pay. He’s been in custody for over a year. What exactly do you think he’s going to do, swim to Mexico?”

“Mr. Warren makes some valid points.” The judge reviews the incident reports. “However, bail for this kind of case is extremely rare.”

“My client isn’t a flight risk, your Honor. He has no passport, no money, no family to run to.”

I flinch, despite myself. I’ve always prided myself on my independence. I’ve never needed trappings. I’ve never had anyone tying me down, but hearing my omega put it that way, it makes me sound very alone in the world. For the first time in my life, I feel vulnerable.

The judge considers this. The courtroom holds its breath.

“I’m inclined to grant conditional release,” he says finally.

Sutter’s voice erupts. “Your Honor, this is highly irregular—”

“So is an inmate being attacked seventeen times in four weeks.” Melkham’s gavel comes down. “However, Mr. Hayes will require a custodian. Someone to ensure compliance with bail conditions.”

My heart sinks. I have no one. No family, no friends who aren’t connected to Cobb’s world.

“Given the unusual circumstances,” the judge continues, looking directly at Milo, “and the prime match status that you’ve mentioned repeatedly, Mr. Warren, I’m releasing Mr. Hayes into your custody.”

Milo goes rigid. “Your Honor, I don’t—”

“Do you really want to finish that sentence considering it may leave you in contempt of court?”

Milo’s mouth opens. Closes. His hands clench at his sides.

“No, Your Honor,” he mutters.

“Excellent. The defendant will be fitted with electronic monitoring and released to Mr. Warren’s custody. Any violations will result in immediate remand.” The gavel comes down with finality. “Court is adjourned.”

The room explodes into motion. Reporters rush for the doors. Sutter storms out, already on her phone. Guards move to process me.

But I can’t look away from Milo, who stands frozen at the defense table, staring at the judge’s retreating back like he’s just been sentenced to death.