Page 48 of Omega's Fever

“Who was your boss, Mr. Rivera?”

His gaze flicks to me again. This time it lingers a beat too long. “Kellen Hayes.”

Beside me, Milo’s pen scratches across his legal pad. The sound is oddly soothing, evidence that he’s paying attention, working. Planning. The kiss from yesterday burns between us like a live wire, but he’s completely professional now. Even Melkham couldn’t fault him.

“Can you identify Mr. Hayes in the courtroom?”

Danny points at me with a trembling finger. “That’s him. At the defense table.”

“Let the record show the witness has identified the defendant.” Sutter’s smile is all teeth. “Mr. Rivera, can you describe Mr. Hayes’s role at The Pit?”

This is where the script really kicks in. Danny straightens in his chair, words coming faster now.

“He ran everything. The fights, the girls, all of it. Nothing happened without his say-so. He’d count the money in the office every night, give orders to security. If someone caused trouble, they’d answer to him.”

Bullshit. Complete bullshit. I fought and maybe I broke up the occasional scuffle in the bar above the basement. The closest I came to the money was collecting my own pay.

“Can you give specific examples?” Sutter prompts.

“Sure. I remember one night, maybe six months before the raid, this girl—one of the dancers—she wanted to quit. Said she had enough money saved to go back to school. Mr. Hayes told her nobody quits The Pit. Said she knew too much.”

My jaw clenches. That never happened. I barely spoke to thedancers, made it a point to give them space. But I know exactly which girl he’s talking about—Maria Santos. She did try to leave. Cobb had two of his boys follow her home, remind her of her obligations. She came back the next night with bruises under her makeup and never mentioned school again.

“What happened to her?” Sutter asks, all fake concern.

“She stayed. They all stayed when Mr. Hayes told them to.”

Milo’s pen stops moving. I feel him tense beside me, preparing. When Judge Melkham nods to him for cross-examination, he rises, a small smile playing on his face. Even with the rings under his eyes and the weight he has lost, he is still the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen.

“Good morning, Mr. Rivera.” Milo’s voice is steady, professional. Nothing like the breathy sounds he made when I kissed him yesterday. “You said you worked at The Pit for eighteen months?”

“Yes.”

“And in that time, how often did you have direct conversations with Mr. Hayes?”

Danny blinks. “I... several times.”

“Several. Can you be more specific? Five times? Ten? Twenty?”

“Maybe... maybe ten times.”

“Ten conversations in eighteen months.” Milo makes a note. “That’s roughly one every two months. What did you discuss during these rare interactions?”

“Different things. The business, mostly.”

“The business.” Milo’s tone sharpens just a fraction. “Mr. Rivera, isn’t it true that most of your interactions with Mr. Hayes consisted of him ordering drinks at the bar?”

Danny shifts in his seat. “Not just that.”

“Really? Can you describe a single specific conversation about ‘the business’ that you personally had with Mr. Hayes? Date,time, what was said?”

Silence stretches. Danny’s mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air.

“I... there were so many...”

“But you can’t remember a single specific one?”

“Objection,” Sutter calls out. “Counsel is badgering the witness.”