Page 77 of Omega's Fever

Little. Milo would hate that. There’s nothing little about his determination or his fury or the way he—

“I took a plea.”

They both stop what they’re doing. Woods actually looks disappointed, like I’ve let him down somehow. “No shit? What’d you get?”

“Ten. Seven with good behavior.”

Antonini whistles low, shaking his head. “Could’ve been worse. Could’ve been life. Still, that’s rough. Thought for sure your boy would find a way out.”

“He tried,” I say, because Milo deserves that much. “I made the call.”

Woods and Antonini exchange one of those looks that long-time partners develop. Whole conversations in a glance.

“The omega?” Woods asks carefully. Guards aren’t supposed to get personal, but we’ve spent weeks together. Lines blur.

“He’ll be okay. He’s pregnant. I can’t have him—”

It’s the first time I’ve come close to mentioning Cobb in here but they’ll know what I’m talking about. Everyone knows Cobb.

“Man.” Antonini goes back to his paperwork. “That’s tough. Real tough. My sister’s omega just had a baby. Changes everything, you know? Can’t imagine missing that.”

I can. I’ve imagined it in detail.

“Strip out,” the processing guard says, already bored. He’s new, doesn’t know me. Just another con to process.

A few moments later, just like that, I’m back in the orange jumpsuit and it’s exactly as uncomfortable as I remember. Scratchy fabric that’s been washed with industrial soap until it feels like sandpaper. The sizing is off—too tight in the shoulders, too loose in the waist. Nothing like Milo’s soft expensive t-shirts.

Stop. Thinking. About. It. Stop thinking about all of it. The baby. Milo’s shirts. Milo’s scent.

I have seven years to get through and then it’ll be mine. This is the price I pay to keep him and the baby safe and I’d pay it a thousand times.

The walk to my cell block feels like traveling backwards through time. Familiar faces watch me with interest as I go.

“Well, well.” Roberts leans against the railing on the second tier, his smile all teeth. He’s put on weight while I was gone, muscle turning to flab around his middle. “Look who came crawling back.”

I keep walking. He’s not worth the energy. Never was.

“Fucking your lawyer didn’t work then?” he calls after me, voice carrying across the block. Making sure everyone hears. “Maybe you should have done a better job of it. Maybe I’ll have a go next. Bet he’d get me off.”

My shoulders tense but I don’t turn. He’s not going to be the first one to talk shit about Milo.

They’ve put me in with Thackeray again. It won’t be a coincidence. The guards know who fits well with who. It’s all about minimizing the fights.

Thackeray sits on the bottom bunk, thick glasses reflecting the overhead light as he reads the same fantasy novel he had when I left, though he must be on his fifth re-read by now. The spine is held together with commissary tape.

“Kellen.” He marks his place carefully with a receipt. “Didn’t expect to see you back.”

“Yeah, well.” I haul myself onto the top bunk. The mattress is thin as paper, springs creaking under my weight. There’s a dip in the middle where I’ve slept for so long, my body’s impression worn into the inadequate padding. “Here I am.”

“How long?”

“Ten years, out in seven if I’m lucky.”

He’s quiet for a moment, processing.

“The omega?”

“What about him?”