Page 53 of Omega's Fever

Uncle Kenneth was wrong about a lot of things, but one of the best tips he’d ever given me was that people who lied always had a tell.

“Look at their eyes,” he’d said, fingers steepled like some villain in a bad movie. “They’ll glance at someone in the room to check if what they said was okay. Maybe it’s their lawyer, maybe someone in the gallery. Or maybe they won’t look up, but they’ll get a little lilt at the end of their sentences. It’s a persuasive thing. People who don’t have to make stuff up don’t have to think about it.”

The witness on the stand the next day is doing exactly that. Every answer ends with that subtle upward inflection, turning statements into questions. Her eyes dart to Victoria Sutter after each response, seeking approval like a student hoping she got the answer right.

“And you saw Mr. Hayes collecting money from the dancers?” Sutter prompts, her voice smooth as aged whiskey.

“Yes?” Her gaze flicks to the prosecutor. “Every Thursday night? He would come upstairs and take envelopes from each of us?”

I make a note on my legal pad: Witness seeking validation. Upward inflection on all statements. Body language suggests coaching.

My stomach rolls, a slow, nauseating wave that has nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with the triple dose of suppressants I choked down this morning. The courtroom lightsseem too bright, each fluorescent tube stabbing needles into my skull. I breathe through my nose, trying not to think about Kellen beside me. I want to kiss him.

Stop. Focus.

She is lying through her professionally whitened teeth. So was the witness before her who’d claimed Kellen threatened him weekly for protection money. His tell was different—a nervous throat clearing after each fabrication, like the lies were stuck there and needed dislodging.

“No further questions.” Sutter returns to her seat and I take a small amount of pleasure noting that she does not look happy. With the first witness, she’d sat down with the satisfied air of a cat who’s cornered a mouse. That satisfaction has been neatly wiped from her face.

It’s her own fault. A donkey could defend this case, it’s so badly put together.

I can feel Kellen glowering next to me. He’s still furious that I’m bringing up Cobb Sewell, but he doesn’t understand. Even if he weren’t my mate, I’d struggle to let him go to prison for something he didn’t do. I don’t want that on my conscience.

Judge Melkham looks at me expectantly. “Cross-examination, Mr. Warren?”

I push myself to standing, and the world tilts slightly. My hand finds the edge of the defense table, gripping hard enough that my knuckles go white. Beside me, Kellen shifts in his chair.

It doesn’t take long to poke holes in her story. I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. From what Kellen has told me, there is a real chance she is being threatened, but she has also sworn to tell the truth.

By the time I am done, it’s obvious that she is as credible a witness as every other person Sutter has put up here.

I return to the defense table, legs shaking with the effort of appearing normal. The nausea rises again, and I have to pausewhile black spots dance at the edges of my vision.

“No further questions, Your Honor.”

The words come out through clenched teeth. I sink into my chair, focusing on breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. The suppressants are trying to shut down my system’s response to Kellen. My body is caught in a chemical war that’s tearing me apart from the inside.

“We’ll take a fifteen-minute recess.” Judge Melkham’s gavel cracks like a gunshot.

I’m on my feet before the echo fades, moving toward the courtroom doors. Kellen stands as I pass, and for one insane moment, I want to lean into him. Want to let his solid presence steady me. Want to breathe in his scent until the nausea fades and the world stops spinning.

Instead, I keep walking.

The hallway is mercifully empty. I make it three steps before I have to stop, palm flat against the cool marble wall. My phone buzzes in my pocket—medication reminder. Right on schedule. I fumble for the bottle, and dry-swallow three.

I’m not so concerned any more about my attraction to Kellen, but I can’t lose control. I can’t lose concentration and right now, he is almost all I can think about. I need to keep on these things until the case is over. Then I can stop.

The water fountain is ten feet away, but it might as well be ten miles. I force myself to move, each step an act of will. The water is lukewarm and tastes like old pipes, but I drink deeply, trying to wash away the bitter chemical taste.

“Rough morning?”

I spin too fast. The world tilts, and I have to grab the fountain to keep from falling. Victoria Sutter stands five feet away, her smile sharp as a blade.

“Victoria.” I straighten, hoping I look more composed than I feel.

“Those witnesses really got to you, huh?” She tilts her head, studying me like a specimen. “First criminal trial?”

“I’ve tried plenty of cases.”