Page 93 of Omega's Fever

He looks at the phone for a long moment, then sets it aside. “No. I don’t think I am.”

“No?”

“No.” He takes a deep breath, and I can see him gathering courage.

“I know we haven’t talked about it,” he rushes on. “About what comes next. But I’ve had three days to sit here and think while you were unconscious, and I realized something. I don’t want the life I was building. The corner office and the billable hours and the constant need to prove I’m good enough. I want...” He pauses, vulnerable in a way that makes my chest tight. “I want whatever life we can build together. You, me, and the baby. Whatever that looks like.”

I study his face, this brilliant, brave omega who threw away everything he’d worked for to save me. “You sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.” He laughs, the sound a little watery. “Which is terrifying, honestly. I’ve had a plan my whole life. College, law school, make partner by thirty. Now I have no idea what comes next and somehow that’s... freeing?”

“We’ll figure it out together,” I tell him, echoing words I’ve said before. But this time, there’s no seven-year prison sentence hanging over us. This time, it’s actually possible.

His phone buzzes again. Anne’s name flashes on the screen.

“Answer it,” I say. “Tell her.”

He picks up the phone, takes another deep breath, and swipes to answer. “Anne.”

I can hear her voice, sharp and immediate. “Finally! Milo, where are you? We need you in the office immediately. The publicity from this case is incredible. I’ve already had threemajor clients call asking specifically for you—”

“I quit.”

The silence on the other end is deafening.

“I’m sorry, what?” Anne’s voice has gone dangerously quiet.

“I quit.” Milo’s voice is steady now, sure. “I’ll send a formal letter, but consider this my notice. I’m done.”

“You can’t be serious. After everything I’ve done for you—”

“You told me to throw the case,” Milo interrupts. “You told me to let an innocent man go to prison because it was easier. Because it was expected. You cared more about billable hours than justice.”

“I was being practical—”

“You were being complicit.” His knuckles are white where he grips the phone, but his voice stays level. “I’m done.”

“Milo—”

He hangs up. Stares at the phone for a moment like he can’t believe what he just did. Then he starts laughing, bright and surprised.

“I just quit my job.”

“You did.”

“I have no idea what I’m going to do now.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

He kisses me then, careful of my injuries but thorough enough to make my heart monitor spike. When he pulls back, we’re both breathless.

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you too.” I catch his hand, press it flat against my chest so he can feel my heartbeat. Still going, despite everything. “We’re going to be okay.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, settling back in his chair but keeping our hands linked. “We are.”

Epilogue