Page 131 of Your Wild Omega

I chuckle and press my knuckles to my aching forehead, which hurts almost as much as my feet. “Hello to you too, Ozzie.” I run my other hand through Red’s hair, massaging her scalp. “Should we let him out?”

Although Ozzie’s been out a few times, we’ve cautiously kept him away from Zack. But it might be safe to let them meet now. If Zack didn’t attack the alpha who threatened Red today, maybe we’re taking giant leaps forward.

My omega hauls herself upright and goes over to the cage, letting the bird climb onto her finger before transferring him to her shoulder. He clings to her hair, bobbing his head in delight.

I pull myself up on my elbows. “Hey, Zack. Want to meet the bird?”

“Bird, yes. Ozz-ee.” The big alpha reaches out his hand.

Red winces as she extracts the parrot from her locks and transfers him to Zack’s fingers. The colorful bird tilts his head back and forth, studying the big alpha. “Bastard,” he shrieks, spreading his wings and dancing up and down. “Hallo. Bastard.”

Zack blinks at the noisy critter, clearly unsure what to do. I lose it. It’s just too cute. I flop back against the armrest, choking with laughter, and damn if it doesn’t feel good. After all the tension, I needed a laugh. “I’m not cooking tonight,” I declare once I catch my breath. “If you’re hungry, eat granola bars or something.”

Red grins as she gently takes the foul-mouthed parrot away from Zack. “Fine by me.”

Agent Pierce rolls up his sleeves and washes his hands at the sink. “If you don’t mind me invading your kitchen, I’ll cook something.”

“Shit, really?” I ask. Not his job at all, but I won’t say no. “Knock yourself out.”

I cover my face with one arm, blocking out the clanking as he gets pots and cutting boards out. I think I need a vacation. We’ve been living every day on edge, but things might finally settle into a routine now. I can even think about lining up Red’s next film contract. Tomorrow I’ll ask Mr Yun’s assistant which titles are in the director’s scope.

A weird dial tone disrupts my daze and I lift my hips to dig my phone out of my back pocket. “Oh, it’s Hale,” I mutter in surprise. And he’s attempting to video call. My belly lurches. It’s after dark and Callisto’s paralegal is calling. Something isn’t right.

I hit accept, struggling into an upright position. “Hi, Hale. Is everything okay?”

Red comes over and climbs into my lap. I shift her to one knee, bracing her back against the armrest so we can both see the screen, being careful of the parrot nestling in his favorite place under her hair.

The middle-aged man on the video display laces his fingers together as he leans forward, revealing the legal office behind him with bookcases, potted plants, and a panoramic photo of a sunset over a desert.

“Hello, Rickon.” He stiffens as Red leans in to appear on the video and waves. “And you must be the famous Ms Jones.” He plunges on before we have time to respond. “I’m Hale Rabast, Callisto’s slave—I mean paralegal.” The man smiles wryly to show he’s joking, luring a chuckle out of Red.

He grows more solemn, switching gears to business mode. “Rickon, I’m sorry to call you out of the blue, but there’s something really sensitive I need to discuss regarding the upcoming case.” His gaze flicks from me to Red and I get the picture.

I glance over at Red, weighing the options.

“You want me to go?” she whispers.

Hale interrupts. “No, Ma’am. I don’t want to upset you, but it’s probably best if you hear what I have to say, since it involves you.”

She shivers. From his tone, I already know it’s something we don’t want to hear, but we can’t bury our heads in the sand. If we ignore problems, they’ll get bigger and bolder, like Brad did.

Hale clears his throat. “I’ve worked for Callisto for about five years now, and I’m not exaggerating when I say he’s one of the finest lawyers I’ve ever seen.” His brows lift and his mouth quirks. “Not that he needs to hear it from me.”

My arm’s straining to hold the phone up, so I lean forward and prop the device on the coffee table so I can hold Red properly, bracing us both for what’s coming.

Hale grimaces. “This is rather unprofessional of me, I suppose, so sorry in advance,” he says, shoving curly hair back from his face. “But I’m about to send off the confirmed list of witnesses for the State vs. Fibbistachi case, and I think you need to know it’s not one Callisto can win.” The paralegal’s lips press together as he gazes at Red. “Ma’am, I know I can’t even imagine the horrors you’ve been through . . .”

She turns her face away, and I ache for her. Red doesn’t want his pity.

The paralegal charges on. “But since your name isn’t on this list, I need to know for sure you want it that way. I can’t add you later. Callisto said you wouldn’t be testifying and he doesn’t know I’m asking now, but I couldn’t submit it without at least trying.”

I cover Red’s head with my hand, wanting to shield her. He’s right. It is unprofessional to go behind his lawyer’s back, but I know from conversations with Callisto that Hale’s as ruthless as he is. And I recognize what this situation is: a last-ditch effort to support his lawyer.

“Wait,” I say, holding up my free hand. “When does the trial begin?”

“Next week.”

My stomach cramps up, and Red shivers. “He didn’t tell us,” I whisper.

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