Page 115 of Your Wild Omega

I groan. “Hale, I’m being serious.”

His eyebrows rise. “So am I. You haven’t taken a vacation in years.” He gestures to his computer. “I have an entire inbox dedicated to harassing emails from HR begging me to get you to clear out some of your accrued time.”

I snort. “Really?”

He holds my gaze, steady as a rock. “Want to see it?”

Hale would be a killer poker player, I’m sure, but I’m inclined to believe him because those same emails used to land in my inbox before I blocked the entire HR team.

I shake my head. “Fine. But theatrics aside, please book it, and don’t accept any new clients without checking with me first.” I snap my fingers at him and point to his seat in a silent order to get to work.

He sighs like I’ve wounded him before slinking back to his desk.

“And is my calendar up to date? I need to book a personal appointment for two hours. Also, can you send me the court start date of the Rucluzio vs. Martbris case?”

He frowns as his mouse zips across the screen. “The one from a few months ago? Sure. And let me check for court date notices and client deferment real quick before I confirm about your calendar.” Just like that, the drama queen morphs into serious work mode and the apocalypse gets canceled for today.

I hide my smile as I head back to my desk.

Hale shoots me a calendar invite labeledfree timefor an afternoon later this week, and I get straight on the phone to an old acquaintance. “Hi, Juan, it’s Callisto Wren. You did my clock tattoo a few years back.”

“Hmm, left shoulder, how could I forget?” His silky tone resonates down the line. “How you doing, alpha?”

I lean back in my plush leather chair and smile. Hearing his voice takes me back to our school days. “I’m good. Working flat out. How’s our valedictorian?”

Juan chuckles. “Oh, I’m living the high life, brother. Nothing better than doing what you love and getting paid for it.”

“Good to hear.” I twirl my pen across the desk, staring into the distance. I used to feel the same about my job, but now a niggling sensation in the back of my head isn’t so sure I’m where I’m supposed to be. But I didn’t call this man to get philosophical. “How do you feel about getting paid for an extension to your previous work?”

“Hell, yes. Your clock’s in my book of bests, alpha. When are you coming in?”

“Can you consult Friday at two?”

“For you, I can bite the moon on Friday at two.”

I laugh, knowing Juan talks to all his clients this way, but still enjoying it. “Thanks. Lock me in.”

I dig into my caseload, constructing witness lists, reviewing testimonies, and formulating arguments, working methodically from the most urgent to the least. My conversation with Red hums away in the back of my mind and I can’t help myself frompulling out her file. I spread my special visual criminal-charges tracker page across my desk, tracing my links on the A3 page. We only have a few solid charges.

Ray Fibbistachi: Possession of illegal haze, abetment of illegal haze extraction, resisting arrest, and abetment of omega trafficking.

Rape, trafficking, abuse, and confinement have no basis. Yet.

The only evidence I have is the haze found in his house, which a fantastic lawyer could argue reasonable doubt on. My medical expert is ready to get in the box to say the amount of haze seized couldn’t be sourced consensually or ethically, and the forensics team ties it to the haze that was still at the trafficking hub, but we have no direct link saying Ray was the alpha responsible. And while we have him on resisting arrest, it’s a minor charge. Without a substantial crime given as his reason for fleeing, he can explain away his actions as alpha instinct or shock.

His colleagues aren’t giving him up either, and despite him being caught during the raid, none of the other omegas even saw an alpha in the compound prior to that day.

Red mentioned something about kicking him, so I pull up the statements from the arresting officers on the day. Can I show an omega held a clear grudge against him? It’s grasping at straws.

I groan softly into my palm.

“That one’s really bothering you, isn’t it?”

I twitch to find Hale standing over me, my lunch in hand. I glance at the time on my screen saver to see that it’s already one thirty. “Thanks,” I mutter as he sets the Caesar wrap and a bottle of Coke on the edge of my desk.

“You worried it’s going to kill your win streak?”

I blink at him as I crack the soda’s seal and take a swig. “What?”

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