Page 76 of Omega's Fever

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.

23

Kellen

“Home sweet home,” Woods announces as the prison walls come into view ahead of us: twenty feet of concrete topped with concertina wire. “Bet you missed us.”

I don’t answer. What’s the point?

The van pulls through the first gate, then the second. Each clang of metal on metal takes me further from him. By the time we reach the intake bay, I’ve rebuilt every wall I let Milo tear down.

I’m Kellen Hayes again, fighter, convict, nobody’s anything.

Except I’m not. His mark burns on my neck, hidden under the jumpsuit collar but impossible to ignore. We’re mated. All the legal technicalities in the world can’t change that.

After weeks of Milo’s apartment with its fresh air and the lingering scent of vanilla, the stench of too many men in too small a space hits me harder than it used to.

Woods and Antonini flank me as we process in, their casual banter filling the silence.

“Told you he’d be back,” Woods says to Antonini, unlocking my wrist restraints. My shoulders scream as I straighten for the first time in an hour. “Nobody walks away from charges like that.”

“I had faith.” Antonini starts the paperwork, pen scratching across forms. “Thought maybe his fancy lawyer would pull something off. Intense little thing.”