Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Two days after the bail hearing, I woke up reaching for my alpha before I remembered he wasn’t there.
Seven days total now.
The mating bond pulled tight in my chest with unfamiliar intensity, reminding me with every heartbeat that my mate was locked away somewhere I couldn’t reach him.
We’d only had three days together after the auction—three days of overwhelming passion and tentative exploration of what this bond meant—before they’d torn him away from me.
My phone buzzed with a text.
Penny
Bringing pastries from Rosie’s. Don’t even think about skipping breakfast again.
I smiled despite the persistent ache in my chest. Penny had been badgering me to eat since Dominic’s arrest, tempting me with my favorite foods and forcing normalcy into days that felt anything but normal. His friendship was one of the few things keeping me functional.
My phone buzzed again, this time a text from Blake:
2PM appointment confirmed. Private visitation approved under omega welfare statutes. I’ll pick you up at 1:00.
My heart lurched. After two days of arguing, pleading, and outright stubbornness since the devastating bail hearing, Blake had finally managed to arrange a private visitation.
The Omega Protection Act required accommodations for newly mated pairs, though “private” was relative—Blake would have to serve as chaperone, and there would still be guards and cameras.
But it meant I could scent Dominic properly, could confirm if he was truly okay.
Both Blake and Dominic had been adamant that I shouldn’t visit at all—too dangerous, too public, too risky for an omega who’d recently been through a heat with his new mate. The media attention around Dominic’s case made everything more complicated.
But I’d worn them down with persistence and the kind of stubborn determination that came from a mating bond screaming at me to check on my alpha. The need to see Dominic, to confirm he was safe, had become a physical ache that rivaled the bond separation itself.
I pulled myself out of bed, muscles protesting the movement.
The separation symptoms were getting worse instead of better—persistent nausea, shaking hands, and a bone-deep exhaustion that sleep couldn’t touch.
Dr. Westfield had warned me this might happen with such a new bond, but knowing the science didn’t make the reality any easier.
A shower helped marginally, though I caught myself gripping the marble tiles when a wave of dizziness hit. I needed to eat something, needed to pull myself together before seeing Dominic. He had enough to worry about without seeing how badly I was falling apart.
The kitchen smelled like coffee and something sweet when I emerged from the guest room, hair still damp from the shower. Penny had apparently arrived while I was getting ready, because he was already arranging pastries on Blake’s expensive plates and humming something cheerful under his breath.
“There you are,” he said, looking up with a bright smile that didn’t quite hide the worry in his eyes. “I brought almond croissants and those little lemon tarts you like. And tea, because you’ve been looking a bit green around the gills lately.”
“You don’t have to take care of me, Penny.”
“Someone has to.” He handed me a porcelain mug of chamomile tea that smelled like comfort in a cup.
I settled at the breakfast bar, grateful for both the tea and Penny’s presence. “How are you holding up?”
Penny’s theatrical mask slipped for just a moment. “Honestly? I’ve been better. The whole district feels wrong with everything that’s happened and I hate being away from the shop. But today’s important—you finally get to see him.”
“Blake’s probably having second thoughts as we speak,” I admitted. “He keeps reminding me about the media attention, the security risks, the fact that visiting could make me a target.”
“And?”
“And I don’t care.” I meant it—every syllable. “I need to see him, Penny. I need to know he’s okay, that he’s not giving up hope. This bond… it’s like part of me is missing. I can’t help but wonder what it’s doing to him.”
Penny nodded seriously. “Then you go. Let Blake worry about security. You just focus on Dominic.”
I forced myself to eat half a croissant, though everything tasted like cardboard. The tea helped settle my stomach, and Penny’s chatter about shop gossip and district news provided a welcome distraction from my anxiety.
By the time Blake arrived to pick me up, looking crisp and professional despite probably having been up and out since daybreak, I felt marginally more human.
“The car will be here in twenty minutes,” he said, pouring himself coffee and studying my face with clinical assessment. “You look terrible.”
“Thanks for the pep talk.”
“I’m serious. The separation symptoms are getting worse. Dr. Westfield wants to see you again. Maybe I should—”
“After I visit Dominic.”
Blake’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. We’d had this fight already. “Okay. Let’s go.”
“And you,” Blake turned to Penny. “You and Jake stay here for now. Security protocols are in place. I’ll have someone monitoring communications. If anything feels wrong, call me immediately. You can check on your shops later this evening.”
Penny saluted with mock seriousness. “Aye aye, Alpha Blake.”
Despite everything, I found myself smiling. A week ago, I would have bristled at being managed like this. Now, with my world turned upside down and my mate locked away, I was grateful for people who cared enough to worry.
I finished getting ready in Blake’s guest room, choosing clothes that would hopefully look presentable under harsh prison lighting. My hands shook slightly as I combed my hair, and I had to take several deep breaths to calm my racing heart.
Today, I would finally see Dominic. Talk to him. I wouldn’t be able to embrace him, but perhaps, I could hold his hand at least.
The detention center’s waiting room smelled like industrial disinfectant and despair.
This was my first time here. I tried not to stare at the other visitors—a beta man clutching a container of homemade cookies, a young omega woman whose distress scent made my own new bond ache in sympathy, a teenager anxiously tapping her sneaker while the older woman beside her crocheted what appeared to be a scarf.
We were all part of the same sorrowful club: people who loved someone the system had decided to cage.
“Sterling-Hart, private visitation.” The guard’s voice carried the flat professionalism of someone who’d called out thousands of names to thousands of desperate people.
I followed him and Blake through security checkpoints that felt designed to strip away dignity along with personal belongings.
Each barrier reminded visitors that we were entering a world where normal rules didn’t apply.
My skin prickled with discomfort at the invasive pat-down, the harsh lights, the way guards looked at me like I was probably smuggling something.
They made Blake empty his pockets completely, examined his credentials, and subjected both of us to metal detectors that seemed overly sensitive.
The private visitation room boxed us in claustrophobically, with barely enough space for the metal table tucked near one corner, two rigid chairs, and the guard station positioned by the door.
Cameras swiveled from ceiling mounts, their unblinking lenses capturing our every movement from multiple angles.
“Physical contact limited to scenting only, as per omega welfare regulations,” the correctional officer explained to Blake, who nodded his understanding. “Any violation of contact rules terminates the visit immediately.”
When they brought Dominic in, my heart clenched at how much seven days had changed him.
The confident corporate executive I’d fallen for had been replaced by someone more careful, more controlled.
His orange jumpsuit hung loose on his frame—was it the lighting, or had he lost more weight?
—and shadows under his steel-gray eyes spoke of sleepless nights.
When our eyes met, the new mating bond flared to life with such intensity that I had to grip the table.
His scent—everything my omega instincts recognized as mine—wrapped around me despite the visiting room’s sterile air, but it was wrong. Stressed. Underlaid with the harsh chemical tang of industrial soap and something wild and barely contained.
“Leo.” My name on his lips sounded like a prayer and a question rolled into one.
The guard's key clicked in the handcuff lock, metal links clinking as they fell away from Dominic's raw-looking wrists. With a jerk of his chin, the officer motioned Dominic toward the empty chair across from me.
“You look like hell,” I said, which probably wasn’t the most romantic greeting.
A wry smile tugged at his mouth. “Prison chic isn’t really my style.”
The casual joke made my chest tight with emotions I was still learning to navigate through our new bond. Even here, locked away from everything he’d built, Dominic was trying to make me feel better.
“How are you holding up?” I asked, studying the shadows under his eyes.
“Learning things about our justice system I never wanted to know,” he replied carefully, glancing around at the cameras and listening devices that made private conversation impossible. His gaze dropped to his hands, knuckles whitening where they pressed against the table.
“I didn’t want you to come here.” The muscles in his jaw tightened as he glanced down at his orange jumpsuit. “Hated the idea of you seeing me like this.”
Through the bond, I felt his controlled demurral, the way his alpha instincts were laser-focused on protecting me even from behind bars.
But there was something else now—something barely restrained that caused my omega instincts to become instantly alert and on edge.
The connection between us was still so new, so overwhelming, that every emotion felt amplified.
“And now? You are happy to see me, right?”