Chapter Eleven #3
The couches were the perfect example of a formal living space.
They had ornate backings with firm cushions not meant to relax on but to fully support.
A bookcase was on one wall, littered with books and other little objects like a snow globe, ornaments, candle, and even a wooden box that might have been a pet’s ashes considering it had a plaque with the name Megara on it.
A chandelier hung from the ceiling, the silver thing lacking any dust or spiderwebs despite the height of the tall ceiling it hung from.
With four sets of couches surrounding a coffee table that looked made of glass, we took our seats.
Atlas by my side, Everett standing between our couch and the next where Oaks was making himself comfortable.
When I looked over at him, he gave me an encouraging smile and then mock-glared at Atlas who didn’t even acknowledge his packmate.
The actual lawyer of the pack, Bartholomew, sat on the couch furthest from us, a pad and pen in his lap as he flipped over to whatever page he wanted to start, the sound of the rustling papers the only noise.
The rest of his pack continued through the living room and down a hall, giving us the illusion of privacy.
“All right,” Bartholomew started. “Eve, I was hoping you’d tell me in your own words what happened at the OC.
Just to make sure I’m fully understanding the situation.
I want to jot down my thoughts and questions while you do so and then we can get into the discussion of what’s next. Does that sound good?”
He spoke to me, but still glanced at the males around me, accepting their nods.
I retold the story I’d told pack Wilder.
From meeting Hannah, to learning about her profile, to being let go and the letter I’d received.
It was impressive to see how fast Bartholomew wrote, how quickly and constantly his pen moved across the pad, or his fingers flicked onto a new page.
The more I spoke, the closer Atlas moved against my side until I was essentially squished between the couch’s arm and Atlas’s body.
When he tried to discreetly catch a whiff of my scent, and couldn’t find it because of the descenter, I saw his jaw clench, his hand tightening around mine.
“I find this case—your situation—very interesting,” Bartholomew admitted after I’d finished. “Corruption inside the OC is rare. So rare, I’d argue it’s unheard of.”
“I mean, I’m not sure corruption is the word I’d use. It could have just been a single person, right? Someone who created the profile on Hannah because of an anonymous call or something?”
“Someone had to have known that profile existed in order to know when it was deleted,” Bartholomew pointed out.
“Someone with a high enough status had to approve going back into your account and seeing what you did. That speaks to someone with authority. And honestly, I highly doubt that you managed to find the single corrupt needle in a stack of needles. What about other omegas that have been flagged, potentially torn from their packs because someone in the OC is trying to punish them?”
I sucked in a harsh breath. I hadn’t considered that Hannah might’ve been one of many. She’s so unique that I figured her situation was also unique.
An omega who went to protests, with a supportive pack that helped her sneak around, it all felt too singular. But Bartholomew was right. Before I’d met Hannah, I wouldn’t have thought anyone like her and her pack existed. I would’ve been wrong.
Dread settled like a rock in my stomach. The discomfort of the emotion had my throat tightening and I wasn’t sure if it was in preparation of tears or vomiting. I wasn’t sure which one I was hoping for either.
Everett’s hand came down on my shoulder as he leaned over the top of my head to kiss my hair. “It’s all right, Babygirl. You did good all on your own. You can’t save everyone.”
“I didn’t even try,” I choked out, a sob climbing up my throat as my eyes watered.
Beside me, Atlas started to purr, the vibration soothing against my arm.
Oaks stood from his spot on the other couch and came to kneel in front of me, wrapping his arms around my legs, not even caring that Bartholomew was watching the whole scene.
It only took a few more moments to collect myself.
I hadn’t cried, although my nose did feel stuffed, making me wish I had a tissue. Or a time machine.
“Sorry about that,” I told Bartholomew. “I’m usually much better about regulating my emotions.”
Atlas mumbled, his face in my neck, “But now I can scent you again.”
I chuckled on a small laugh, a blush rising in my cheeks.
“Are you all right if we continue?” Bartholomew asked. “We can always take a break if you need a moment.”
I shook my head. Or as much as I could with Atlas’s face still pressed into the nook between my shoulder and neck. “I’m good.”
Bartholomew nodded. “Okay then. I want to ask about your relationship with Representative Adam.”
“I don’t have one.”
“You do, actually. It might be an antagonistic relationship, but it’s there. Have you ever met in person?”
“No.”
“So he wouldn’t recognize you if he saw you?”
“I don’t think so? I wasn’t around when he went to Hannah’s home, and he wasn’t at the studio when she did the interview.”
“Would you assume he knows your relationship with Hannah?”
“No. I mean, I make sure not to draw attention to myself when I go over to her place—”
“Wait, you’re still visiting Hannah?”
“Of course, she’s my friend.”
He flips back to an earlier page in his notebook. “What’s her number? I’ll need to reach out to her.”
My back straightens. “Is that really necessary? I’d like to keep Hannah out of this, if we can. She already went through the whole public ordeal. It was really stressful for her and her pack.”
Oaks, who was still by my legs, leaned back to meet my gaze. “Darlin. Have you told your friend what’s been going on?”
Slowly, barely, I shook my head.
“Oh, pet.” That was all Atlas said, his purr growing in intensity.
“I just didn’t want to burden her,” I explained. “Hannah’s been through a lot, and she’s still very much a public persona. And Adam is definitely a sore spot for her.”
“I understand that you want to protect Hannah, but you are the one currently being investigated for abuse and company violations,” Bartholomew said.
“My intention isn’t to drag her back into any sort of spotlight.
Having Hannah claim that she wasn’t negatively affected by your actions, and even more, that she supports them?
That could make a true difference in the outcome of this case. ”
My exhale was loud and pathetic. “Could you wait a bit? I should probably tell her first, let her know to expect your call and make sure it’s okay to even give out her information.”
“Sure.” He made some sort of note on his pad. “Let’s talk about your family then.”
My brows furrowed. “My family? Why?”
“Well, I’m interested to know about their designations, how they raised you.
” Seeing the confusion still on my face, he continued, “In this situation, designations are going to matter. Representative Adam’s term is coming up for reelection and his newest platform is all about betas being dangerous to packs.
Even though the movement ban wasn’t enacted, a majority of his constituents still support his ‘omega protective measures.’ That means more than restricting omegas—it means refusing betas as part of a pack.
No doubt, he’s using you because he sees this as an easy win. ”
“How do we stop him?” Everett asked.
“We take him to court. We make this public. We show off Eve as a beta who defies alphas to protect omegas. We show the corruption in the OC, in Representative Adam. We need to win in the court of public opinion. So ... your family.”
“They...” I don’t even know how to explain it. “They love me.”
“I’m sure they do,” Bartholomew agreed.
“They’re just all omegas and alphas.”
“They’re pack traditionalists,” Oaks added, looking to me to ensure he wasn’t overstepping by speaking up. “If an omega is hurt, they blame the alphas. If a beta joins a pack, they consider it the highest honor.”
“Do they know you’re being courted by pack Wilder?” Bartholomew asked.
My hand came up to the necklace with their name on it. I never took it off. “No.”
“Why not?”
“We don’t talk a lot. At least, not about my personal life. My eldest sister has her bonding anniversary coming up and I’m planning that for her.”
“You’re close to your sisters then?”
I shook my head. “My family just knows I’m really good at planning parties. I’m very organized and I’ve planned so many events that I have lists of vendors and stuff that constantly help me out.”
Bartholomew’s brow furrowed, obviously confused by something I’d said. He looked over at the males, seeming to meet their gaze in a silent conversation between the four of them.
“What?” I asked.
“Would your parents speak on behalf of your character?” Bartholomew asked rather than answering my question.
I hated that I didn’t have to think about it. “If they knew what I was being accused of, they’d cut me out of the family. They don’t believe institutions can be infallible—especially not the OC.”
“Understood. However, I would like to point out that if we continue forward, there won’t be any hiding for you. Going forward means putting you in the spotlight. All of you.” He looked to the males surrounding me. “You might want to think that over before we continue.”
“What happens if I don’t fight it? If I don’t fight Adam?”
“Most likely you’ll lose. I see Adam painting you as a danger to omegas, to society.
You’ll be banned from working, living, or bonding to omegas.
Most likely registered as a person with a history of abusing omegas.
Definitely banned from working any sort of government job and receiving any government benefits.
Not to mention, the loss of public opinion.
If Adam is smart, he’ll plaster your face everywhere.
You’ll be well-known as the beta that harms omegas and who helped destroy funding for the OC.
He’ll paint you as a villain and one that he can conquer. ”
With each word my panic started to rise dramatically.
It was all stuff I knew, or assumed, yet hearing it out loud, with a sort of conviction, made it feel too real.
I’d spent my entire life caring for omegas.
Protecting them. And in ensuring one omega’s safety, I might have just ruined my own life.
I couldn’t find words. Any words. My brain stopped working, stopped functioning properly. I just sat there, staring at Bartholomew while he let me fully absorb his words.
Slowly, I turned so I could look at Atlas.
His purr had died out at Bartholomew’s words.
His distress was so strong that even I could scent him.
Oaks reached a hand toward him, rubbing his palm on Atlas’s leg which was bouncing like crazy.
In fact, Atlas’s hands were squeezing mine so tightly, I was starting to worry about the circulation to my fingers.
The way he was clinging to me was full of desperation, as if I’d disappear the moment he eased his grip.
It felt like my heart constricted in my chest. Atlas didn’t want to lose me.
And if I didn’t fight Adam, or worse, if I fought and lost, I’d never be allowed to bond with Atlas.
Or Everett and Oaks, considering they were all bonded in a pack with an omega.
Even if Atlas didn’t encourage his designation tendencies, the OC still acknowledged him as an omega.
I would lose him, lose Everett and Oaks. My fingers tightened around my necklace, like clinging to it could keep the pack from being torn away from me.
“Okay,” I croaked. Clearing my throat, I tried again. “Okay. Let’s fight.”