Page 27 of Omega’s Fever (Prime Match #2)

Milo

Kellen’s hand brushes mine as we walk through security, a casual touch that sends warmth spiraling through me. The guard at the metal detector actually smiles at us.

I don’t care. Let them know. Let them see that Kellen Hayes is mine and I’m his, and we’re going to win this case.

“Stop smiling so much,” Kellen murmurs as we wait for the elevator. His dark eyes scan the lobby with that constant vigilance he can’t seem to turn off, even when things are going well. “You look suspicious.”

“I can’t help it.” I bump his shoulder with mine, grinning wider just to annoy him. “I’ve been watching the jury. We’re getting through to them.”

“You think so?”

“Definitely.” The elevator dings and we step inside. “Cobb is going down.”

Kellen’s hand covers my mouth gently. “No. Stop mentioning that name.”

I lick his palm just to be difficult. He pulls back with a soft grunt that might be amusement.

The corner of his mouth quirks up, just slightly.

That’s practically a grin from Kellen. God, I love him.

The thought hits me with the same stunning force it has every morning since I admitted it to myself.

I love this taciturn, protective, impossible man.

Last night he cooked dinner again. He is an amazing cook. This baby is going to be most well-nourished newborn to ever arrive.

My hand drifts unconsciously to my stomach. Six weeks pregnant and I already feel invincible when he’s near me.

“Warren. Hayes.”

Sutter’s voice cuts through my happiness like ice water. She waits in the lobby, her smile wide as a shark. Everything about her is sharp—her cheekbones, her suit.

“Ms. Sutter.” I keep my voice professional, but my good mood falters slightly. “Your message said you wanted to see us before court.”

“I do.” She glances between us, taking in our proximity, the way Kellen has shifted slightly to put himself between her and me. “Interview room three, if you’ll follow me.”

Kellen’s hand finds the small of my back as we walk, warm through my suit jacket. The touch steadies me.

The last time we were in this room... well, it’s better that I don’t think about that while there are other people in here with us. I’m no longer on the suppressants. My scent does not need to go that wild.

Sutter takes the far side of the table. We settle across from her. Under the table, Kellen’s knee presses against mine.

“I’ll be direct.” She slides a manila folder across the table. “We’re prepared to offer Mr. Hayes a deal.”

I laugh. “I’m sure you are.” I’ve demolished every witness she’s put in front of us. “No chance.”

“Just look at it.” Her voice is patient, like she’s dealing with a child. Like I’m some naive omega who doesn’t understand how the world works.

I open the folder. The pages are neatly typed, official letterhead. Kellen reads over my shoulder, his breath warm against my ear.

She’s asking for a guilty plea to racketeering and conspiracy. In return, Kellen gets ten years federal prison. Eligible for parole in seven. The trafficking charges—the ones that carry life sentences—dropped.

Six weeks ago, if Kellen hadn’t matched with me, I’d have encouraged him to take it. It’s a good deal.

“This is ridiculous.” I push the folder back.

“The jury knows that maybe some of the witnesses are a bit shaky.” Sutter’s fingers tap against the table. “I have three more ready to testify that your client in charge and we haven’t even got to the financial records yet.”

“I’m looking forward to that. At best, they’re circumstantial.”

“They’re compelling.” She leans forward, and I catch a whiff of her perfume.

“Mr. Warren, let me be frank. If convicted at trial, Mr. Hayes faces mandatory life without parole. Multiple counts, consecutive sentences. He’ll die in prison.”

That’s not going to happen. “Your ‘evidence’ isn’t—”

“The evidence is enough.” She cuts me off smoothly. “You know it, I know it, and more importantly, the jury will know it. This deal guarantees he’ll be out in seven years. Maybe less with good behavior. Your child will still be young enough to—”

“How do you—” I stop myself. It doesn’t matter how she knows.

“Seven years versus life, Warren. It’s not a hard choice.”

Seven years. The baby would be starting school. And there’s no guarantee that Kellen would survive prison. Not with how often he gets into fights.

“No.” I shake my head, forcing strength into my voice. “We’re not interested.”

“Milo.”

Kellen’s voice is quiet. Too quiet. I turn to look at him, and my protests die in my throat.

He hasn’t said a word since we sat down. His hand rests on the table, fingers splayed across the wood grain. I know those hands well now. The scars across his knuckles from years of fighting. The way they’re gentle when he touches me.

“Hell no.” My words come out cracked.

“I’ll take it.”

I turn to stare at him fully, certain I’ve misheard. His face is carved from stone, jaw set.

“Kellen—”

“I’ll take the deal.” He pulls the folder back, starts reading through the terms more carefully. Like he’s studying a shopping list instead of signing away a decade of his life.

“You can’t be serious.” My voice cracks, rises. I sound hysterical even to myself. “We’re winning. You have a real chance at an acquittal.”

“I have to take it.” His voice is flat, matter-of-fact. He doesn’t look up from the papers.

Not this again. We’ve discussed it. Things are different now. He’s claimed me. I’m pregnant. We’re going to fight to stay together.

“Don’t be silly, Kellen.”

“No.” He looks at me then, really looks at me. His dark eyes hold mine. There’s something else going on.

I know we have challenges. Ha! Challenges is a mild word to use for what we’re facing.

We’ve got the pregnancy. The target it puts on both of us.

The way Cobb’s people have been watching, waiting.

How easy it would be for something to happen.

A car accident. A mugging gone wrong. A dozen different tragedies but we can’t live our lives like this.

“We can protect—”

“No, we can’t.” Kellen’s voice stays soft, but there’s steel underneath.

Something happened yesterday. He told me he’d found Penelope and Damon but they couldn’t help. Now I’m not so sure. They said something to him. Something that has changed his mind.

“It’s a good deal,” He turns back to the plea agreement. “Seven years. I can do seven years.”

“Mr. Hayes.” Sutter slides a pen across the table. Her voice drips satisfaction. “If you’re accepting the deal, I’ll need your signature. Initial each page, full signature on the last.”

“Don’t.” I grab his wrist as he reaches for the pen.

His skin is warm under my fingers, pulse steady.

Legally, he has to have his counsel on board with it.

It’s my responsibility to ensure that he understands the terms of the deal.

“Victoria, you know Kellen needs to have his counsel agree to this first. You need to give me a moment with him. I’m advising against it. ”

Kellen gently extracts his hand from mine. The loss of contact feels like losing a limb. “If that’s true, I need to dismiss my counsel.”

“What?”

“I’m taking it, Milo. Sooner the better.” He won’t look at me now, focused on the plea agreement.”

“I’ll represent myself.”

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“Probably.” He starts initialing pages.

“Tell Judge Melkham that we have agreed a plea,” Sutter tells the guards. She is looking far too satisfied for my liking.

“Kellen, please—” I’m begging now and I don’t care. “We can work something out. A better deal. More time to investigate—”

“It’s done.” He sets the pen down on the final page. His signature stark against the white paper. Kellen Hayes.

Sutter gathers the papers with obvious relish. I sit frozen, watching my entire life shatter yet again.

So much for my baby being the most well-nourished. Now it’s going to have to live with my terrible cooking.

“The judge is ready,” the guard announces.

We file through the courthouse hallways like a funeral procession.

Kellen walks between the guards, hands cuffed in front of him now that he’s officially accepting imprisonment. I follow behind. Court employees stop to stare. Word travels fast here. Tomorrow we’ll be gossip over coffee.

The last time we were in Melkham’s chambers, he chastised us for being inappropriate in court. Now I’m claimed and pregnant. At least, that makes our relationship official but I don’t know whether that’ll make it better or worse in his eyes.

Melkham himself sits behind his massive desk like a king on his throne. He reviews the paperwork while I stand there like a fool, Kellen steady beside me despite everything.

“Mr. Hayes wishes to dismiss counsel and proceed pro se?” Melkham’s frowns.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“You understand you have a constitutional right to an attorney? That representing yourself in a criminal matter is highly inadvisable?”

“I do.”

“And you’re waiving that right voluntarily? No one is coercing you?”

I want to scream that of course he’s being coerced. That Cobb Sewell has a gun to our heads even if we can’t see it.

“I’m waiving it voluntarily,” Kellen says.

“Very well.” Melkham rolls his eyes then makes a note with an expensive fountain pen. “Mr. Warren, you’re formally dismissed as counsel in this matter.”

The words sting more than they should.

“The plea hearing will be Thursday morning, nine a.m.” Melkham sets the papers aside with finality. “Just a formality at this point. You’ll agree to the charges, I’ll accept the plea, and we can all move on with our lives.”

He looks directly at me then. “Congratulations, counselor. The match will no longer be binding.”

I stare. I want to punch him in the face, but he’s right. The conviction doesn’t just send Kellen to prison, it legally voids our prime match too.

The Bureau will send me an official notice. An omega can’t be bound to a convicted felon. It’s for our protection, they say. Never mind that the only thing I need protection from is this system that’s stealing my mate.

The pregnancy doesn’t matter. The claim mark doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except the conviction that’s now certain.

“Your Honor—”

“Officers, return Mr. Hayes to holding for transport back to county.” Melkham waves his hand dismissively. “That will be all.”

I stand in Melkham’s chambers, suddenly irrelevant. The judge has already turned to other paperwork. As if I’m not standing here with my world in pieces.

“That will be all, Mr. Warren.”

As I leave the room, I can just see Kellen’s broad back, the way his shoulders stay straight despite everything. Just before he disappears through the door, he turns his head slightly. His eyes find something in the hallway, lock onto it with laser focus.

His expression hardens, jaw set. Silent communication passes between him and whoever waits outside.

A second later I turn the corner and see him. It’s Joey Vaughn, carrying messages back to Cobb.

Vaughn nods at me as if he and I have struck a deal and then he gets up and leaves. Just like that.

I leave because there’s nothing else to do. My car sits where we left it just an hour ago. Such a short time for everything to change. Kellen’s coffee cup still in the holder, half-empty.

The familiar scent of cedar clings to the passenger seat. It’s everywhere in my life now: my clothes, my apartment, my skin. How long before it fades?

I slide behind the wheel and stare at nothing. Thursday morning. Two days. Less than forty-eight hours before they make it official. The plea hearing will be a formality. It’s just a few questions to ensure the plea is voluntary, required statements for the record, then they’ll take him away.

Seven years if we’re lucky. “You know why,” he’d said.

I do know. He’s protecting us.

Melkham was right—conviction voids the match. The Bureau will process it within days. I’ll get an official letter stating that I’m free to move on, find someone else. As if I could. As if I’d want to.

The thought makes bile rise in my throat. Morning sickness or heartbreak. I can’t tell the difference anymore.

Thursday morning. Nine a.m. That’s when I lose him for seven years. Forever, if he dies in prison.

The countdown has begun. I’m not letting this happen.