Page 140 of Your Wild Omega

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 mywrists, 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.

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