Page 66 of Your Wild Omega (The Feral Actress #2)

Chapter fifty-two

Red

Callisto smiles reassuringly as I settle into the seat. “Please state your name for the records.”

I lower my mask and bunch it between my hands. “Red Jones.”

The witness box seems much higher than what I saw at floor level. From here I can see Rickon, Zack, and both the OCB agents in the front row behind the barrier, as well as two typists sitting near my booth with strangely shaped typewriting machines.

Their fingers fly across the levers as Callisto speaks. “Thank you, Ms Jones. And what was your designation at the trafficking hub?”

His voice draws my gaze and I lock onto him and his cherry wood scent. Callisto nods calmly, and his steadiness translates into me as surely as if we had a physical bond.

“They called me O-11.”

“And how long were you held at the facility, Ms Jones?”

“Not sure because I can’t remember my childhood, but staff at the Omega Center said the OCB found records of me being captive there for ten years.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-five, I think. Maybe twenty-six now, but I don’t know when my birthday is.”

Tiny crow’s feet appear in the corners of his eyes as his face softens with empathy. “So, to the best of your knowledge, you were held captive at the trafficking hub since you were fifteen or sixteen years old.”

I nod, but Callisto prompts me with a small roll of his hand to say it out loud. “Yes.”

“And did you ever try to escape?”

I snort silently to myself. “Yes, many times. The most recent time was about two months before the OCB rescued me.”

“Can you please describe that escape for us?”

As I tell him, the rest of the courtroom fades away until it’s just us, an omega and the alpha who could’ve been her mate.

The strange thing is, I can sense which details Callisto wants emphasized by the faint twitch around his eyes.

Restraints, locked doors, running, and being dragged.

Statements that prove they held me against my will.

Callisto pauses, and I copy his deep breath, knowing it’s going to get harder from here. “Ms Jones, do you see the person here who dragged you back inside the bunker that day?”

“Yes. He’s sitting at the table over there.” I point to Ray, my gaze barely flitting in that direction. I can identify him by his scent alone.

“Do you know his name?”

“I knew him only as Ray.”

Callisto swivels, glancing at the defendant. “And how are you sure this is the same person?”

I shrug lightly, trying not to let these details shake me, even though they’ve lodged soul-deep within. For months I blocked out his face because I wanted to pretend what happened wasn’t real. But I can’t pretend anymore. Now that I’ve seen Ray again, I’d recognize him anywhere.

“I saw his face close to mine hundreds, if not thousands, of times. And I also have a sense of smell that’s stronger than other omegas, so I could detect his scent from outside the room. You can confirm my ability with the Omega Center.”

That sends a ripple through the courtroom. Ray crosses his arms, but he gets a sly look on his face, like he’s pleased I can smell him. Disgusting.

Callisto shifts slightly, blocking my view of the monster.

“Red, I’m going to ask you some even harder questions now.

Please take as much time as you need to answer them.

” He holds my gaze, waiting for my confirmation, monitoring me.

Checking I’m okay. He’s changed since the first day we met, when he only cared about his work.

“Okay,” I murmur, holding his gaze like a lifeline.

“Can you please describe your interactions with the defendant during your years at the trafficking hub?”

A rush of memory swells and I swallow down bile.

I could very well lose myself right here and now, washed away by terror.

But while Callisto watches me, his black eyes promising this will eventually be over, I also feel the double thrum of my bonds.

Zack and Rickon sit nearby, willing strength into me.

These three alphas will listen to anything I have to say without judgment. They’re the only ones who matter here.

I wet my lips and begin. “I have an extremely regular heat cycle. It comes sixty days after my previous one finishes. Every time I went into heat, staff at the hub dragged me against my will into a small, square room they called ‘the nest,’ where Ray and two other people would strap me down onto a table by my wrists, ankles, and neck. For three days, Ray would rape me, forcing unwanted sexual intercourse and edging me with a knot while the other two stabbed needles into my neck to collect my haze oil.”

I drag my silky collar down to display the lines of scars marching alongside my collarbone, running the complete length of my clavicle.

The other two lawyers on Callisto’s team scramble with a device and suddenly a photo of my scars flashes up on a big screen on one side of the court.

In the photo, my skin stretches tight over protruding bones in my neck and shoulders.

I didn’t realize I was that emaciated when they found me.

A nurse must have taken it the day I registered with the Omega Center.

Callisto describes the photo as evidence and then returns to my story.

As I spin away from the screen, I catch a look of anger on Ray’s face. Fury, not remorse.

I clench my fists around the cloth mask and sit up straighter.

“I don’t know how long each session lasted for, but the attack continued until my haze glands dried out.

They then left me tied up in the, um—” I flutter my hands out in a rectangular shape.

Bed? Not really. “Well, it was like a table, or hospital bed, I guess. They left me lying in my own fluids for hours until they came back and started all over again. This was the pattern for seventy-two hours, which is how long my heats last.”

Callisto closes his eyes for a moment and his chest heaves.

The courtroom stays deathly silent. My lawyer collects himself quickly, but I can hear the pain in his voice.

“Ms Jones, you said you go into heat every two months. Are you saying that six times a year, this man tied you down and raped you nonstop for three days?”

The opposing lawyer calls out an objection to the word raped , but his voice sounds far away.

The courtroom closes in, threatening to lock me back in that tiny room.

What if escaping and finding my alphas was only a wonderful dream, and I wake up to find myself naked, tied down, and sputtering in froth and saliva?

That same sensation of drowning in my own fluids chokes me now.

I gasp for breath, dropping my head to shield my eyes from the bright lights.

Heat and chills alternate under my skin as past and present realities tangle. The only times I ever saw Ray were during my heats, so it makes no sense to meet him any other time and place. Fever flushes through my body, and I can’t tell if it’s phantom or real.

Ray’s displeasure radiates across the narrow space between us.

Whenever Ray got upset, he’d hit me, or edge me more, or threaten to hurt the other omegas.

The time I bit the bottom of his earlobe off, he denied me a knot for the rest of the day, swearing and punishing me as he fucked me dry.

I shudder. An angry Ray means trouble for me.

I glance toward him, and the look on his face spears through my chest with cold clarity. He loves the fact he’s having this effect on me. He wants to control me forever, like an ownership seal branded on my body and soul. I’ll never escape his grasp.

“Red?” a soft voice calls nearby. I turn to find Rickon on the step into the witness box, his loving gaze glimmering with concern. As promised, my alpha recognized when I reached my limit.

I draw my jagged senses together with a shuddering breath. I need a way to distinguish between past and present. “Can I have your shirt?” I whisper.

He strips it off without hesitation and drapes it around me. His soothing vanilla scent, mingled with traces of Zack’s thick malted barley, surrounds me, and I can breathe again.

My alpha’s hand brushes my waist, catching on the corset laces in a silent reminder. He’s holding me together.

“I’ll be okay now,” I murmur.

Instead of fear, I’ll cling to the anger that rose every time I faced Ray. I’ll hold on to the feeling of freedom from when I first walked down a Laversham street on my own. And I’ll grasp onto the scent of my true alphas, who help me rise above what I used to be.

I’m an actress, but I’m also something more. I’m Red Jones, a beloved omega.

My breathing evens out as Rickon walks back to his seat. With Zack’s unrestrained scent surrounding my face, I can’t even smell the licorice stench anymore.

Callisto looks like he might be about to sob. In fact, I think he sneakily wipes away a few tears. I manage a wobbly smile to reassure us both. “I can continue now.”

And I mean it. Not just in this courtroom, but in my life. It’s like I’ve shed my chrysalis and I’m ready to emerge.

Callisto asks me a few more questions that stress the grievous nature of the crimes. Did I give consent? No. Was I offered any alternatives to go through my heat? No. Did I resist? Yes.

Then he steps back. “No further questions.” He holds my gaze with a silent promise. The worst is yet to come, but he believes in me.

The tall, sleek lawyer takes Callisto’s place on the floor. “Ms Jones, do you know what a heat fever is?”

“Well, as an omega, I think I know a bit more about it than, say, an alpha,” I reply glibly, making a few people in the audience smile.

He adopts a tolerant smile. “Yes, I’m sure you’re familiar with it, but are you aware that heat fevers can be fatal?”

I shrug. “The staff at the Omega Center said it can be, for some omegas.”

“So, knowing that, would you agree it’s possible you might have died without intervention from an alpha during your heats?”