Page 50 of Omega's Fever

“I might have heard the name,” Marcus finally whispers.

“Might have heard it where?”

“Around. The Pit, maybe.”

“And what was Mr. Sewell’s connection to The Pit?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know.” Milo lets his skepticism show. “Mr. Rivera, isn’t it true that everyone who worked at The Pit knew Cobb Sewell was the real boss?”

Danny is shaking now. “I just served drinks.”

“No further questions.” Milo sits down, leaving Danny trembling on the stand.

The morning recess can’t come fast enough. The moment Melkham’s gavel falls, I grab Milo’s wrist. Not hard, but firm enough to get his attention.

“We need to talk.” I keep my voice low, but he must hear the urgency because his eyes snap to mine.

“Not here.” He glances around the emptying courtroom, then stands. “Follow me.”

We end up in a small conference room down the hall. The moment the door closes, I round on him.

“You can’t mention Cobb again.”

Milo sets his briefcase down with deliberate calm, but I can see the tension in his shoulders. “My job is to defend you.”

“And you can, but leave Cobb out of this.”

“Leave him out?” His voice rises slightly. “He’s the one who should be sitting at that defense table, not you.”

“That’s not how this works.” I’m trying to stay calm, but his scent is spiking with anger and it’s making my alpha instincts go haywire. “You mention his name, you paint a target on your forehead.”

“I already have a target on my forehead.” He yanks off his glasses to clean them, a nervous gesture I’m starting to recognize. “Or did you forget about the grocery store?”

“That was a warning. This is different.”

“How?” He shoves his glasses back on and glares at me.

“Because warnings can be ignored. What you just did in there? That’s a declaration of war.”

“Good.” The word cracks between us like a whip. “Maybe it’stime someone declared war on Cobb Sewell.”

I want to shake him. I want to grab those slim shoulders and make him understand. Instead, I pace to the window, trying to get control of myself. His anger is making his scent sharper, electric. It’s doing things to me that have no place in this conversation.

“You don’t understand what he’s capable of,” I say to the glass.

“Then explain it to me.” His voice is closer now. I can feel the heat of him at my back.

I turn, and he’s right there. Too close. Close enough that I can see the fury brightening his blue eyes, the flush across his cheekbones.

We’re breathing hard, both of us. The small room feels too hot, too close. His scent is everywhere—vanilla and anger and something else. Arousal. Fuck.

“I can’t let you do this,” I manage.

“You can’t stop me.” He steps closer, and now we’re chest to chest. I can feel his heart racing. “I’m not your omega to command, Kellen. I’m your lawyer. And I’m going to do my job.”

“My omega.” The words come out rough, possessive. “Is that what you think this is about?”