Chapter 1 #2
I’d spent half the night researching bail procedures online, reading legal blogs and case studies until my eyes burned.
Federal prosecutors didn’t bring charges without confidence.
The evidence against Dominic had to be substantial, or at least substantial enough to convince a judge.
Corporate espionage carried serious prison time, and flight risk assessments for wealthy defendants were always complicated.
What if they denied bail? What if Dominic had to wait months—maybe over a year—for trial?
The bond couldn’t sustain that kind of separation, could it?
I’d read alpha-omega health studies during my sleepless research binge.
Prolonged separation from a claimed mate could cause depression, physical illness, even fertility issues.
My hand drifted unconsciously to my stomach. We hadn’t talked about the future yet. Would Dominic want children? Now, with everything so uncertain, the conversation we’d never had felt like a missed opportunity that might slip away forever.
The apartment’s front door opened and closed, followed by the familiar sound of Blake’s voice mixed with others.
I sat my phone back on the nightstand and pulled on my jeans and one of Dominic’s sweaters—stolen from his apartment by Blake along with several other items deemed “important” before the federal agents could confiscate them—and padded out to find my temporary pack clustered around Blake’s massive kitchen island.
“Morning,” Penny called out, though his usual bounce was muted by exhaustion. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his normally perfect pink hair looked like he’d been running anxious fingers through it. “Coffee’s fresh if you can stomach Blake’s fancy machine.”
Jake glanced up from where he was methodically demolishing a bagel, his movements precise and controlled in the way that meant he was fighting anxiety. “Any word from the lawyer?” he asked Blake.
“Katherine’s meeting us at the courthouse at noon,” Blake replied, not looking up from his tablet.
His usually immaculate appearance showed signs of strain—wrinkled shirt, hair that looked like he’d been running his hands through it, the kind of exhaustion that came from trying to manage a legal crisis while simultaneously watching a political campaign implode.
“She’s reviewed all the evidence they’ve shared so far.
The documents they claim Dominic stole…”
He paused, choosing his words carefully. “Let’s just say there are questions about their authenticity.”
I immediately perked up. “What kind of questions?”
“The kind that might get charges dismissed if we can prove what we suspect.” Blake’s smile was sharp. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Today’s about bail first.”
I slumped onto one of the bar stools, the ache of separation making my joints feel loose and unstable. “I can’t keep doing this,” I admitted. “Being away from him. It hasn’t even been a week and it’s getting worse, not better.”
“You need to eat something,” Penny patted me on the back. “Want me to make some toast?”
I nodded, the small gesture taking more energy than it should. As Penny busied himself with the sleek chrome toaster, I shifted my gaze back to Blake.
“Speaking of things getting worse,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “The District is abuzz with election gossip.”
Blake sat down his tablet. “About that… my campaign is essentially over. I think I’m going to forfeit.”
The words hung ominously in the air. Penny’s hand went to his lucky penny pendant, and Jake’s chewing slowed as he processed the implication.
“Blake—” I started, but he held up a hand.
“Less than three weeks before the election—with two candidate forums, three campaign events, and a debate to go. Meanwhile, Adelaide’s been making the rounds, expressing sympathy for our ‘difficult situation’ while reminding voters about the importance of steady leadership during uncertain times.”
His laugh was bitter. “Turns out having your business partner arrested for corporate espionage isn’t an effective closing argument.”
Guilt crashed over me in a nauseating wave. “This is my fault. If I hadn’t gotten involved with Dominic—”
“Stop.” Blake’s voice cut through my self-recrimination with unexpected firmness. “This is not your fault. The only people responsible for this mess are the ones who framed Dominic and the criminal organization behind it.”
“But your campaign—”
“Was probably a long shot anyway.” Blake shrugged, though I could see the disappointment in his eyes. “Adelaide’s got decades of experience and genuine community support. I was the outsider trying to buy my way into politics. Maybe this is better.”
“Better?” Penny asked, his voice squeaking slightly.
“Better because now I can focus entirely on clearing Dominic’s name instead of trying to balance legal strategy with campaign damage control.
” Blake’s expression hardened. “The people who did this thought they could destroy our lives as collateral damage in their scheme. They’re about to learn that was a mistake. ”
I felt a complicated mix of admiration and guilt watching Blake pivot from political ambition to protective determination. He was sacrificing everything he’d worked toward to help us.
“What about Adelaide?” Jake asked quietly. “She’s Leo’s friend, right? Could be good for us if she wins.”
“Or it could complicate things if she gets in the way of our investigation,” Blake interrupted. “Politicians tend to prefer conventional solutions, even when the problems aren’t conventional.”
“The community’s already starting to see her as the safer choice,” I said, thinking about the text messages. “After everything that’s happened, they want stability.”
“Can’t say I blame them,” Blake said. His phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen with a frown. “Adelaide’s campaign manager,” he said. “Probably calling to offer condolences while they prepare their victory party.”
He declined the call and turned back to us. “But that’s a problem for later. Today is about getting Dominic home.”
Penny sat a plate of toast in front of me. “Jelly?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think it’d agree with me.”
Penny’s expression softened with understanding. As an unmated omega, he couldn’t fully comprehend the reality of a stressed mate bond, but he knew enough about alpha-omega couples to sympathize. “How bad is it?” he asked me.
“Nausea, insomnia, feeling like my skin doesn’t fit right.” I rubbed at the mating mark, which had started throbbing again. “I couldn’t even finish a cup of coffee.”
Jake’s head snapped up. “Is that just separation anxiety? I—I mean, it sort of sounds like bond withdrawal. If it gets worse…”
“It won’t get worse,” I said firmly. “Because Dominic’s coming home today.”
The silence that followed felt heavy. Blake cleared his throat carefully. “Leo, we need to prepare for all possibilities. If bail is denied—”
“It won’t be.” The words came out sharper than I intended, edged with the kind of desperate determination that my grandfather used to call ‘omega stubbornness.’ “The evidence is circumstantial at best. Dominic’s not a flight risk. He has community ties, a business, a mate.”
I gestured at myself. “They have to see that.”
Penny reached across the counter to squeeze my hand. “Of course they will. But Jake’s right about the medical thing. You have to check in with Dr. Westfield tomorrow anyway for the federal monitoring requirement. Maybe she can—”
“I’m fine.” I pulled my hand back, immediately regretting the sharp motion when Penny’s face fell. “Sorry. I’m just… today’s hard enough without adding extra medical discussions to the required ones.”
The truth was, I’d been avoiding thinking too hard about my physical symptoms. Yes, the nausea was getting worse.
Yes, I’d been more emotional than usual, crying at insurance commercials and snapping at perfectly reasonable suggestions.
But it was stress. My body was simply reacting to the trauma of separation so soon after mating.
I’d be okay. The bond would be okay.
Blake’s phone buzzed again, and he glanced at the screen with a frown. “There’s been a break-in at the Historical Society. It made the morning news,” he said. “Adelaide’s calling for increased security in the district, saying the recent incidents are connected to ‘outside criminal elements.’”
“Outside criminal elements,” Jake repeated flatly. “That’s one way to put it.”
“She’s positioning herself as the crisis manager,” Blake said, scrolling through what looked like a news article. “Federal cooperation, community safety, tough on crime. She’s turning my disaster into her campaign platform.”
The comment carried a note of professional admiration.
Blake tapped the screen and Adelaide's crisp, authoritative voice issued from the tablet's speakers. His lips curved into a calculating smile, his eyes gleaming with professional respect as he watched his opponent’s political maneuvering unfold on the screen.
“Clever old battle axe.” Blake’s smile showed a hint of fang.
My interest was piqued despite the emotional exhaustion. I thought about the threats that had driven us into hiding, the systematic targeting of district businesses, the feeling that we were caught in something much bigger than a simple corporate case. “Any word on what was actually stolen?”
“It’s vague about specifics,” Blake said, scrolling through the article. “My bet’s on property records, architectural plans… things of that nature.”
The conversation continued around me, but my attention drifted back to the mating mark on my neck. It was pulling again, that strange tugging sensation that sometimes felt like Dominic was trying to communicate across the distance. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the feeling.
Anxiety. Frustration. And underneath it all, a steady current of deep affection and determination that made my chest tight with longing.
Hold on, I thought, pressing my fingers to the mark. Just hold on. I’m coming.
“Leo?” Blake’s voice pulled me back to the present. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just…” I gestured vaguely at my neck. “Bond stuff. Sometimes I can feel him, you know? He’s anxious but trying not to show it.”
The three of them exchanged glances that suggested they were worried about my mental state along with my physical symptoms. I couldn’t blame them.
Talking about feeling your mate’s emotions through a psychic connection probably sounded like stress-induced delusion to anyone who hadn’t experienced a claiming bond.
“That’s normal,” Penny said gently. “The bond doesn’t just disappear because of physical distance.”
“But it gets weaker,” Jake added, his voice unusually soft. “In Boston, I knew an omega whose alpha got arrested. By the third month, she said she couldn’t feel him at all anymore. The bond went dormant.”
Three months. Dominic had been gone five days, and I already felt like I was coming apart at the seams. Three months would destroy me.
“That’s not going to happen,” I said firmly. “Because this ends today.”
Blake checked his watch. “We should start getting ready. Court opens at one, but I want to get there by noon to coordinate with Katherine.”
The next few hours passed in a blur of preparation.
I changed clothes three times, trying to find something that looked respectable without making me feel like I was playing dress-up.
Blake reviewed legal strategy with his lawyer, occasionally fielding calls from his campaign manager about damage control and concession speeches.
Penny fussed over details—breath mints, tissues, making sure we had phone chargers—while Jake sat quietly alert, watching the windows and checking his phone for updates on district news.
By ten-thirty, my nerves were stretched so tight I felt like I might snap if anyone spoke too loudly. The mating mark throbbed in time with my heartbeat, and the nausea had settled into a constant low-level queasiness that made me grateful for a mostly empty stomach.
“Ready?” Blake asked, keys in hand.
I looked around his pristine apartment one more time, at the temporary refuge that had kept us safe but couldn’t make us whole. In a few hours, either Dominic would be coming back here with us, or we’d be returning without him to plan for a much longer separation.
My omega instincts, which had been screaming warnings all morning, suddenly went quiet. Not calm—quiet. Like the moment before a storm when all the birds stop singing.
I turned back to find Penny and Jake watching me with matching expressions of concern. The scent of my distress—dark chocolate with bitter undertones—had thickened in the air, creating an atmosphere of barely contained anxiety.
“It’s going to be okay,” Penny said softly. “Today, Dominic comes home, and all of this becomes just a really awful memory.”
I wanted to believe him. Five days down. In a few hours, the waiting would either end or stretch into an indefinite future.