Page 83 of Omega's Fever

It’s the same warning system Cobb uses to let people know they’re being watched, that they’ve stepped out of line, that consequences are coming if they don’t correct course.

The torn card flutters in my trembling fingers. They know I met with Penelope. They know I’m digging into things I shouldn’t. They want me to know they know.

The smart thing would be to go home. To let Kellen take his plea. To pretend I never learned my uncle is a criminal and move on with my life.

But I’m done being smart. I’m done being the good omega who follows the rules and doesn’t make waves.

I get in my car, placing the torn playing card carefully on thepassenger seat where I can see it.

It’s meant to be a warning but its also confirmation that I’m on the right track.

They’re watching. Following. Waiting to see what I’ll do next.

Good.

Let them watch. I know exactly what I’m going to do. I reach for my phone and begin dialing.

25

Kellen

This’ll be the last time that I see the courtroom. It’s the last time that I’m going to be able look out of a wire-covered window and see something other than a prison. I shift in my seat, moving my hip.

Roberts got in another lucky shot during yard time, but I put him down hard again. Seven years of this. Seven years of constantly watching my back, of sleeping with one eye open, of counting days that all blur together.

But it’s worth it if Milo stays safe. All I have to do is agree in court that I’m taking the deal.

Woods shifts in the driver’s seat, catching my eye in the rearview mirror. “Big day, Hayes. Ready to make it official?”

I don’t answer. What’s there to say?

“Least you’ll get to see your boy one more time,” Antonini adds from the passenger seat. He’s trying to be kind, in his way. “Without the glass between you.”

One more time. After today, it’s all visits through reinforced glass.

My chest tightens. I breathe through it, the way I learned to breathe through pain in the ring. Focus on what matters. Milo alive. The baby safe. That’s worth any price.

The courthouse comes into view. It’s the same steps that I’ve climbed a dozen times now, but today feels different. Final. I know exactly how this will go. Melkham will ask if I understand the charges. I’ll say yes. He’ll ask if I’m entering my plea voluntarily. I’ll lie and say yes. He’ll accept the plea, bang hisgavel, and that’s it. Kellen Hayes, convicted felon. Despite my messy past, this is my first conviction. I’ve fought, yes, but I’ve also kept my nose clean and my head down.

The match will be void within days. The Bureau’s probably already drawing up the paperwork.

The thought makes me want to put my fist through something, but the cuffs prevent even that small satisfaction.

We pull into the secure bay. The routine is automatic now—out of the van, through the metal detector, up the elevator. My body knows these movements, could do them in my sleep which is good, because my mind is elsewhere. On Milo. On the last time I’ll see him as a free man, even if that freedom is an illusion.

“Courtroom C,” the guard says, like I could forget.

The hallway outside the courtroom is busier than I expected. Usually plea hearings don’t draw crowds, just the lawyers, the defendant, maybe a bored reporter if it’s a slow news day. But there are people here, milling around with the kind of nervous energy that says something’s happening.

I scan faces automatically, looking for threats. A couple of courthouse regulars. Someone from the prosecutor’s office. And then—

My blood freezes.

Milo sits on a bench near the door, but he’s not alone. Penelope is beside him, hands twisted in her lap, wearing a dress that does nothing to hide her pregnancy. And next to her, Damon. All three of them, sitting together like they’re waiting for a funeral.

Which maybe they are.

Something’s wrong. Something’s gone catastrophically wrong. Penelope and Damon shouldn’t be here. They were supposed to stay hidden, stay safe. The whole point of taking this plea was to keep them out of it. To keep everyone out of it.