Chapter 7 Callisto #2
“It’s truly out of my control, Zack,” I tell him.
“I promise this isn’t payback for what happened between us.
This is professional, and you know I win my cases.
” Oh, he probably doesn’t understand that either.
Sighing, I run a hand through my hair. “I’ll get you out, Zack. I promise. But it takes time.”
“Promise?” he mutters, brows dipping together in the middle.
“Yeah, it’s like, um, a deal. I help you, and you don’t attack anyone.” I search my vocabulary for synonyms.
Zack brightens and sticks his hand out, making the cuffs clatter on the stainless-steel table. “Deal.”
I didn’t expect him to understand, but it seems someone taught him the concept. I shake his hand, feeling the strength in his grip and the calluses on his palm.
A strange prickle of emotion runs through me. My omega’s beloved alpha is alive and well, and we’ve made a deal so he doesn’t attack anyone. Maybe, just maybe, we can get through this in one piece.
I keep a hold of his hand when he pulls back. “But, Zack, listen. If you attack anyone, they’ll make you stay here longer. Much longer. Do you understand? I can’t keep our deal if you kill anyone.”
He studies me for a long moment, and then nods. “Unner-stand.”
I release him. Now his motive for attacking the journalists makes sense, so I can get on with my appeal.
A mental to-do list writes itself into my mind.
Check media footage from the day to pinpoint the lights that set him off.
Contact the OCB to learn about fight ring processes.
Make my statement to the OCB about the attack. Petition a judge based on the evidence.
Someone maliciously provoked a sensitive alpha who’d been showing good behavior. At the very least, I should be able to get him transferred to house arrest in a matter of weeks.
When I stand, Zack rises too. “See ohm-ga?” he asks. “See Red and Ri-ckon?” His voice softens as he speaks their names, tone reverent.
I nod. “They’ll come as soon as we can get visitation. Be good, so these guards have no reason to say no.”
He frowns and leans forward. “Now?”
My heart squeezes at his desperate tone. “No, not today. In a few more days.”
Zack’s shoulders slump, and empathy makes me circle the table.
“Sorry, Zack. But, um—” I search him up and down and gulp.
He’s a good deal broader than I am, and trained to fight, so I don’t feel comfortable getting closer, but images of Red convulsing push me onward.
“Would it be okay if I took your scent back to Red? She misses you so much.” I brace myself and open my arms.
“Hug?” Zack asks, eyes opening wide.
“Yes, a hug. I’ll pass it on to Red.”
He closes the distance between us in a blink, snarling as he grabs my shirt. “You not hug her!”
It takes all my self-control not to throw him off me, the memories of our last fight filling me with anger. Truthfully, I hadn’t thought that far ahead about how to share his scent with Red. Moving slowly, I gently pressure his hands, enough to protect my throat if he loses control.
“I just want Red to know you’re safe,” I say gently. “I’ll leave the shirt with her.”
Zack glares at me, seething with alpha dominance. The longer we stand, locked on the brink of punches, the more I feel my alpha aggression fading. This man’s had nothing in his life, so it’s no wonder his pack means everything to him.
I smile. “Okay, Zack. I’ll try not to hug her.”
His grip relaxes slightly, and then Zack ducks in and presses his face to my shirt.
I carefully wrap my arms around his solid shoulders, letting his scent transfer.
The wild alpha straightens, but when I go to step away, he catches my shirtfront again and presses our cheeks together, sliding his jaw along mine.
Shock paralyzes me. Never in my life have I let another alpha mark me. I feel like punching his lights out. Instead, I turn into him, seeking more, all control over my body lost. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Zack steps back, the faintest of smirks dragging on his lips. “That was for Ri-ckon.” He strides away and hammers on the wall, and the door opens.
The feral looks over his shoulder. “Cal-ee. Protect my pack.”
The guards lead him away, leaving me collapsing speechless against the table.
I go to drag a hand over my short beard but then halt, remembering it’s now a carry-bag for Zack’s scent. Holy shit. A tingle runs through my core. That felt so much like a pack alpha giving an order to a pack mate.
I pant out a quick breath and blink away my paralysis. I’m imagining things. Zack won’t ever accept me, but I’ll free him anyway. And now I have everything I need to get his case heard.
Dragging my wits together, I pack up the recorder and leave the room, finding an escort guard waiting for me.
As we walk down the corridor, another prisoner talks into a phone on the wall, voice low.
A surly guard watches him from nearby, tapping with annoyance.
The prisoner stares at me as I approach, his shrewd gaze calculating.
He looks like a person you’d stereotypically expect to find in prison: tats, big muscles, head shaved bald.
His alpha presence presses against me without him even trying as I pass.
Suddenly he coughs and jerks in my direction, and something rough slides across my fingers. I swivel away, fearing an attack, but he simply apologizes, hangs up the phone without a goodbye, and walks on, leaving a folded piece of paper wedged between my bag handle and my palm.
An icy premonition sweeps through me as I unfold the paper in my car, away from potential cameras.
Hi stranger. I think you’ll find someone’s out to get your feral alpha, and if you want him to survive, you’re going to need my help. Make an appointment to see me, ‘Cal-ee.’
Your future client, Keith Alhedy.
If the contents weren’t so foreboding, I’d tear the paper into pieces for his arrogance. But the message Rickon sent earlier from Red’s phone confirms there’s more to this situation than meets the eye. Plus the imprisonment without due process waves a bunch of red flags.
My hand closes around the paper, crumpling it as I gaze up at the imposing prison walls rimming the parking lot. Even if it takes only a couple of weeks to get Zack released, he might not have that long.