Page 136 of Your Wild Omega

I swivel in surprise to find my paralegal coming through the small gateway that separates the front and spectator parts of the room. My inner fury falters. Shit, what was I thinking? Not onlyis this a courtroom, but I won’t be able to help Red if I end up in prison myself.

“H-Hale?” I stammer. “What are you doing here?”

The paralegal gives me a lopsided smile and passes over a sheet of paper. “I don’t think I sent you the most current list of witnesses. This is the correct one, just in case you run into any issues.”

“Any additions from Pike I need to know about?”

“No.”

Annoyance spikes within. Did he have to disturb me for this when I’m trying to get in the right head space? For obvious reasons, it’s harder to achieve today than usual.

I take the sheet without glancing at it. “Thanks,” I mutter, sliding it under my other files. Not sure what he’s worried about; the witness list won’t change anything now.

Hale leans over the barrier, squeezing my shoulder briefly. “Good luck, Callisto.”

I nod in reply. Part of my annoyance comes from the bubbling anger directed at the defendant, but seeing my paralegal here settles me a little more. He’s a reliable guy to have on my side. Any further conversation gets cut short as the judge enters.

The jury gets sworn in, a group of twelve, already vetted through the voir dire selection process. I excused two who I thought were sympathetic to the idea of helping an omega through a heat by any means necessary, and my OCB counterpart excused another who he believed was a haze user, although when I asked why he thought so, he just shook his head. Guess they see enough cases in the OCB to get a sixth sense for it.

I tried my best to get an omega in the group, but only two showed, and Antonio excused them without reason. Now my case is in the hands of seven betas and five alphas.

Time for opening remarks. I rise to my feet, my throat closing up. “Your Honor, diligent alphas and betas of the jury. On the second of February this year, the OCB raided an illegal omega trafficking hub two hundred and sixty miles north of Laversham city. They rescued fifteen imprisoned omegas from abhorrent conditions of torture and isolation. The raid also uncovered copious amounts of illegal haze, as well as experimental drugs.”

I can sense Antonio making notes behind me, ready to adjust his opening speech to shoot down every argument I present.

Ignoring the slop of nerves in my belly, I charge on. “During that raid, OCB agents arrested the defendant, Ray Fibbistachi, on-site in the middle of the facility. In the process, one of the most brutalized omegas attacked him in a fit of vengeance before Ray was taken into the Omega Crimes Bureau custody. A following raid on the defendant’s home found sixteen vials of illegal haze in his home—haze which is a forensic match to over two hundred vials found at the trafficking hub.

“Today you will hear conflicting stories about whether the defendant was involved in the unthinkable crimes committed against the omegas who passed through the facility, but I ask you to keep one thing in mind. The defendant, Ray Fibbistachi, was theonlyalpha arrested on-site. The only one. And as you’ll hear from the experts presenting today, an alpha’s sexual involvement is undoubtedly required in order to extract the amount of haze the agents discovered onsite.”

I pause, reminding myself to breathe. Now that I’m on a roll, my nerves have settled, but anger still sparks hotly in my gut.

“Ray Fibbistachi not only aided and abetted the other criminals at the Laversham trafficking center, but he performed unspeakable crimes amounting to torture and rape of at least one omega victim. Some may argue this wasn’t torture, but what else would you call strapping an omega into physical restraints and fucking her repeatedly while denying an alpha’s knot andusing a needle to extract haze so many times that her skin could never heal from the pinpricks?”

Emotion lodges in my throat and I swallow. My delivery matters now more than ever. I straighten, keeping eye contact with the jury members. “And that’s just the crimes we know about so far. As members of an upright society, can we allow such brutal and despicable actions to go unpunished? Ray Fibbistachi cruelly confined and tortured at least one omega, profiteering from her agony for over ten years. Please, do not be lulled into thinking this case is about peddling some haze. It’s about the brutal torture of an innocent omega.”

Quinton gives a small nod as I sit down, indicating the jury exhibited emotional reactions to my statement. It’s a good start.

The judge clears his throat. “Counsel for the defendant will now give their opening remarks.”

Antonio rests both hands on his desk before rising, drawing everyone’s attention to his movements. He smiles as he glides to the center.

“I heard Counselor Wren used to receive top marks in his Fiction Writing classes, and now I understand why.” He tosses an indulgent smile my way before turning back to address the jury, some of them smiling at his supposed joke.

Fury grips me. On my left, Quinton laces his hands together, knuckles popping. The visual of his agitation calms me. I’m not the only one getting mad here, but that means I’m not the only one responsible for the outcome of this case. I channel a few deep breaths while thinking about Rickon’s instructions that time I had a panic attack after Red vanished.

Losing my cool won’t put Ray behind bars. And really, what do I have to lose? Even if I fail here, Ray’s days are numbered.

Antonio spreads his hands in supplication. “Your Honor and gentle jury folk, the only two correctfactspresented by the prosecution are that my client was on-site at the trafficking hubon the day of the raid, and that unregistered haze was found in his apartment. There is simply no evidence to draw these outlandish conclusions that Ray was in anyway involved with crimes against omegas. For that matter, the prosecution also has no proof the haze found in his house was his and not a plant.”

I grind my thighs up under the table, using the pressure to stop me spiraling into rage.

The defense lawyer smiles, oozing confidence. “The OCB can’t produce this supposedly tortured omega, and no sustainable DNA evidence exists to say he was ever in the same room as her, let alone had sexual relations. Even if he did, everyone knows that an omega in heat requires the presence of an alpha for assistance.”

I dig my fingertips into my leather folio, leaving nail imprints. It’s the age-old argument every defense falls back on in cases for alpha sex crimes against an omega. Everyone swallows the story whole, especially betas who don’t experience the raging hormones of the other traits’ cycles.

Well, I have some experts to speak to that fallacy.

The lawyer comes to the close of his speech with a few more remarks about there being no evidence and then he points toward our table. “The prosecution is looking for a scapegoat in a case riddled with professional bungles. I will prove to you that Ray Fibbistachi is not the vicious criminal they are painting him as, but rather an innocent man in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

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