Chapter Fourteen
I t had been so long since I spoke with Bartholomew that I’d actually forgotten about the whole issue with the OC. Almost as if I’d trusted the lawyer to simply handle everything and he’d let me know when it was all over.
Of course, that wasn’t true, and it simply wasn’t how laws worked. Unfortunately.
It also felt like I shouldn’t answer the call coming in without one of my packmates present which was ridiculous. Bartholomew was on my side. He was my lawyer. Not the enemy. And if I didn’t answer, it would be the equivalent of wasting his time or disrespecting him. Neither was an option.
I dried my hands, ignoring the fact that the knife and all the ingredients to season the steaks were still out, and ran to my purse, pulling out my little notebook and pen so I could take notes before finally answering, “Hello, yes. This is Eve.”
“Good morning. Is now a good time to speak with you about your case?”
“Yes, of course. I was just prepping dinner for tonight.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I glared at the wall as if it should have stopped me from saying something so random and unimportant.
Even if I was in the middle of something important, I would have dropped it for this conversation.
Or multitasked, at least. “I am more than available. Is anything the matter?”
“Just wanted to update you. I’ve finished going through all the documents and I have reached out to both the OC as well as Representative Adam, letting both know that all further contact needs to go through me.”
“That makes sense. What happens if they reach out to me? Or my pack?” For as normal as it felt to claim pack Wilder as mine, using the actual terminology, with an alpha, almost felt awkward. Like I’d expected him to snap at me for making such a claim.
“They won’t. Not unless they want to get into serious trouble.
If, for whatever reason, they are idiotic enough to actually try to speak to you, just repeat the phrase, ‘all communication needs to go through my lawyer.’ It doesn’t matter what they say.
If they promise you a deal that only you can accept or if they threaten you.
Just repeat that phrase and then call me.
But honestly, if they’re dumb enough to try and reach out to you, this case will be over before it even starts. ”
I didn’t quite understand the legalese, but I did feel the weight of relief that I wouldn’t have to interact with the OC or Adam. I wrote down the phrase, and made sure to underline and circle it before I asked, “What happens now?”
“Right now, they’re collecting evidence for their case. Talking to people, downloading security cameras, meeting with designation experts if I had to guess. Anything and everything they think they can use to paint you as a dangerous person. More importantly is what we’re going to do.”
The way he paused for dramatic effect let me know I was supposed to ask, “What are we going to do?”
“We need to let them know you’re going to put up a fight.”
“How?”
“Well, I have a few options, although if I’m honest, I also have a preference.
The first would be to file an opposite case against the OC for their omega abuses.
We’d have to find more employees willing to testify as well as speak to omegas not only in packs, but in the system still.
This is definitely an option, although a longer one.
I don’t know if any past omegas or employees will even speak with us. If they can, legally.”
I had questions. Like why they wouldn’t be able to speak with us. If reaching out to traumatized omegas would give them peace or just scare them again. My hand was barely able to keep up with jotting them all down as he continued.
“Another option is litigation. We could sit down with Adam, show him that you have a lawyer and support. That you’re not an easy victim.
He might choose to back down solely because his election is coming up and he wants an easy win.
Or he might be so lost in his cause that he doesn’t think he could lose, and he’ll continue regardless. ”
Litigation. That sounded like a nice, simple option. Stopping Adam before this went any further. I was basically trained in litigation from my time at the OC.
“Finally, is my preferred option. I would like to make a public statement about the case being brought against you.”
I choked on air.
Bartholomew had mentioned this idea back at our first meeting, but somehow, it sounded even scarier now. Before, it was just me. Me under the spotlight. Me under the scrutiny. That was scary enough.
Touching my collarbone with Atlas’s bitemark, I thought of my bondmate. I didn’t want him anywhere near Adam. Didn’t want Adam to even know he existed. If we went public, it would draw the public’s attention to me—to my pack.
If we didn’t, and this issue regarding me went away with litigation, was I leaving other omegas, other betas, at the hands of an abusive organization?
The Omega Compound wasn’t villainous. They did good work. They protected and cared for omegas. They ensured they had a safe place to nest and eat and meet potential packs.
Except. That was all they allowed them to do.
I thought of Koda who wanted to attend school. There was no option for omegas to take classes, not beyond cooking and cleaning and childrearing. No classes in anything that made them independent.
Then I thought of Hannah. Sure, the OC respected her wishes not to let her family visit her after she was taken, but that was a thirteen-year-old child making that decision because she resented her family for letting her be taken away.
She was scared, and everyone just accepted the fear as a part of everyday life for omegas.
Omegas were scared—that was why they needed alphas.
Maybe they wouldn’t need alphas if they weren’t scared. Weren’t torn from their homes. Were given an education.
Even if my beliefs were changing, what did that mean for the case? Would standing up to the OC make a difference or just hurt the omegas I was trying to help? Was it better to let the OC go unchecked to ensure what little was protecting omegas didn’t disappear?
“Eve? Are you still there?” Bartholomew asked.
“Yes. Yes, I’m here.” Alone. Unsure what to do. But here.
“I think we should go public. Social pressure on this topic just might protect you from the type of vitriol that Adam is going to spew. I have no doubt that he’s going to try and streamline all betas behind you and paint your designation as dangerous to packs.”
I knew what he meant. Betas tended to be seen as without a designation and because of that, we were somehow different than alphas and omegas.
Alphas were one option and omegas the other.
We weren’t either. It was a fairly big argument between alphas and betas considering the former had more governmental power, but the latter had a larger populace.
In fact, more and more betas were leaving cities, forming their own micro-communities.
One of the reasons that the designation elitists were gaining so much traction was because betas had been socially excluded from the core of nature that was supposed to bring everyone together.
As a consequence, betas weren’t involving themselves in the issues of other designations.
They weren’t voting on alpha and omega regulations, didn’t encourage funding for designation related works, and they were content to have a third and separate life.
But that was impossible. We were all people, all interconnected. Matters that seemed to not directly affect them, indirectly did.
Betas voted against zoning for pack housing. Which meant packs were buying smaller homes and reconstructing them to fit their needs. That meant less homes for betas. So betas continued to vote against housing for packs. It was a cycle.
You can’t ignore people just because you didn’t identify with them. Separate was never equal. It just let weeds grow in the space between.
“I need to speak with my pack,” I finally admitted. “I can’t make this decision by myself.”
“Of course. Call me when you have an answer.”
Bartholomew hung up without any informal goodbye, and I hated that I felt relief. The male was just trying to help me. I couldn’t hate it every time he called.
I wanted to write down a list of pros and cons for each option, but I also needed to finish making the lunch before my mates arrived.
They had limited time to eat, especially Atlas who merely came home to grab the food before returning to Pink Lady.
So I kept the notebook and pen out, pretending like I didn’t glance at it every few moments as I worked on prepping dinner.
I only allowed myself one question, or one note, as I worked.
What would my family think?
I pulled out the salami, pepperoni, and ham for the three-themed sandwich I was planning for their lunch.
What would Hannah think?
Three types of meats needed three types of cheese. The pack actually had a marble cheese slicer which was convenient.
What would I do if I wasn’t worried about the pack?
Three veggies—tomatoes, lettuce, and onions.
What would Atlas say if he knew my hesitation was to protect him?
Three bonus toppings. Banana peppers, olives, and a mixed dressing.
Would I even trust the OC with my children?
Grabbing a toothpick, I forced the sandwiches to stay together and then rolled them in parchment.
Is this even a fight I should take up?
I carefully cut the thick pickles into star shapes and then started slicing them.
If I don’t stand up for omegas, and they’re being shoved down by alphas, does that make me complicit in their suppression?
I brought out both a pitcher of water with lemon and apple juice as I set the table.
Can I live with myself if I do nothing?
****
O aks was the first one home for lunch, which wasn’t a surprise. Of all my packmates, Oaks had the most consistent schedule. “Darlin? Where have you run off to?”
“I’m just dusting in the spare bedroom. Go ahead and enjoy your lunch.”