Chapter Twenty-Eight
Mark
If this defense attorney doesn’t wrap it up soon, I might be the one facing charges.
Their strategy appears to be boring the jury into a coma and hoping for a mistrial.
The last four witnesses have all given nearly identical accounts, each from a slightly different angle—none of which actually help their case. What the hell are they thinking?
It’s also possible I’m just getting cranky.
I bounce my leg under the table, fighting the urge to tap my pen.
Even the judge looks like he’s struggling to stay awake.
At one point, I’m almost positive I saw him jerk upright as if he had nearly nodded off.
The jury isn’t absorbing any of this, and honestly, neither am I.
Surely he will call for a recess soon. I can’t believe he hasn’t yet. Maybe because he’s new?
Suddenly, a sharp burst of fear slams into me through the bond.
It’s so intense and unexpected that I drop my pen and hit my knee on the bottom of the table.
I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe through my nose.
The fear disappears almost as quickly as it came, but it still leaves me unsettled.
I try to tell myself it was nothing; maybe Ava saw a spider or a rat. Yet that doesn’t feel quite right.
I spot Henry standing off to the side, whispering with a new bailiff who had just entered.
Maybe he’s about to take a bathroom break.
I pick up my pen and scribble ‘Please check on Ava’ on my notepad, motioning for him to come my way with a tilt of my head.
It’s a bold move on my part, but at this point, I don’t care.
We’re going public after today, and Henry probably already suspects.
She would have run right past him the other night after our fight, crying and smelling like me. There’s no way he didn’t notice that.
Henry glances at my note, gives a sharp nod, and slips out of the courtroom. The pressure in my chest eases slightly. I trust him. He will make sure she’s all right until I can get out of here.
Finally, after another few minutes, the defense wraps up with their current witness. I’m on my feet before they can call another. “Your Honor, may I request a sidebar?”
He nods, and I approach the bench. “I believe the jury has reached their limits for the day and are not fully absorbing information. Could we possibly have a recess?”
“Yes, Mr. Taylor, I believe you’re correct,” he says quickly.
He sounds almost relieved. It’s mildly annoying that he didn’t just call it himself, but I let it go.
At least we are finally getting some freedom.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we will be breaking for a recess. We will return tomorrow at,” he pauses to consult his calendar, “12:30 p.m.” He bangs the gavel.
Everyone starts gathering their things, conversations filling the room.
Just before anyone has a chance to leave, the alarms blare to life.
The jurors freeze, wide-eyed and anxious.
The bailiff is pressing a finger to his earpiece.
His face goes pale. Panic surges through me.
Something is wrong, and I just felt a spike of fear from Ava.
I have to get out of this courtroom.
I spin and take large strides to the door, but the bailiff blocks my path. “Mr. Taylor, we have shelter-in-place orders.”
“I don’t care what orders you have. I need to check on my mate,” I growl. My voice is rougher than I would normally ever dream of being at court, but I cannot find it in me to care.
“Mr. Taylor, return to your seat,” he says firmly. “If you don’t, I will be forced to restrain you.”
My mouth opens, ready to tell him he can certainly fucking try, but Henry slips back in through the doorway. As soon as he sees me, he raises his hand in a placating gesture, and I know. I don’t need to hear whatever he’s about to say.
“Let me out of this fucking room, Henry.”
“Mark, security has this, and NYPD is en route. If you go charging out there, you’ll put her in even more danger,” he says gently.
Normally, I like Henry. I really do. Right now, though, my alpha is screaming at me to get past him and/or rip his head clean off his shoulders. My mate is in danger, and he is in my way. “What would you do if it was Grace? How can you ask me to sit here and do nothing?”
He winces. “I know. Believe me, I do. But please, listen to my forty-plus years of experience. Let the experts handle this.”
“The police force hates her, Henry!” I yell, fear erasing every ounce of rationality I have left. “You want me to leave her safety to them?”
He studies me for a long moment, lips in a straight line and jaw tight as if debating with himself.
The alarms are still blaring, and I can hear some of the jurors and spectators crying softly, but nothing matters to me just then except Henry and the woman—my woman—in danger past the doors.
I clench my fists, and it feels like every muscle in my body is coiled like a spring, just looking for a reason to pop.
Finally, he sighs. “All right. You can come out with me into the hallway and down to the command center. But you stay behind me and do exactly as I say. Otherwise, I’m going to taze your big ass. Understood?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
He presses his earpiece and notifies someone that he will be walking out of courtroom five’s door with one other unarmed individual. Once they respond, he nods at me and then unlocks it.
We step out into the hallway, where several police officers are gathered with a group of armed guards.
One officer is hunched over a laptop, monitoring a live feed from the building’s security cameras.
I can’t see enough from my vantage point to spot where Ava is on the screens, and the knot of anxiety and fear in my stomach only tightens.
“Tell me what happened,” I say roughly.
Henry’s expression is more serious than I’ve ever seen.
“When I came out the door, Ava was walking past with a man at her side. He had his hand firmly on her elbow and was standing much too close. Given what I know about you two, it immediately struck me as off. Then she mentioned needing a stuffed tiger when she was ill this weekend, and I knew she was signaling for help. Since I’m assuming she was in heat this weekend? ”
Nausea forces acidic bile into my throat. I give a terse nod, closing my eyes to get myself under control before finding the strength to speak again. “Do we know who he was? Where did they go?” I ask quietly.
“NYPD is running facial recognition now. He’s an alpha, that much I could tell, but not anyone I recognize. The good news is, they’re still in the building.”
I grit my teeth. “Do we think he targeted Ava specifically, or was she just a random woman he took hostage?”
Henry shakes his head. “We’re not sure yet. But we will get her back, Mark. I promise.”
The guards and police give us quizzical looks when we join them. I can practically feel the unasked question hanging in the air. They want to know what the hell I’m doing out here. I ignore it, leaning forward to get a clearer look at the camera feeds.
“Where is she?” I ask the guard closest to me. He looks familiar. Nick something, maybe.
He points to one of the squares and clicks to bring it into a larger view. “Best we can tell, she’s in the hallway by the storage closets. We don’t have eyes on her yet, but he’s paced through there a couple of times.”
“There are several blind spots over there,” I say, more to myself than to him, as my gaze tracks the empty stretch of hallway. “She must be in one of them. We’re positive she didn’t get away from him?”
He nods and splits the screen, fingers moving quickly over the controls to pull up recorded footage.
Ava appears, turning the corner with the man pressed tight against her side.
His grip looks brutal, like he’s afraid she’ll take off if he loosens it.
She’s probably going to have bruises. My jaw locks.
A low sound rumbles out of my chest before I can stop it.
The room goes quiet. A few of the men glance at each other. Henry steps closer, voice low. “Mark. You gonna be able to keep it together? We can’t handle an alpha losing control right now. She can’t afford us having to split resources to babysit you.”
I shake my head and suck in a breath through my teeth. “I’m fine.”
Footsteps approach from behind us. Two men and a woman join the group, each in black tactical vests with NYPD ESU patches.
The largest of the men is armed with an assault rifle strapped across his chest in a way that speaks of complete ease and familiarity with the firearm. The other man, I recognize immediately.
“Lieutenant Mulligan,” I say. “I’m glad to see you.”
And I am. I’ve worked with ESU before. There’s a saying in New York—when we need help, we call 911; when the cops need help, they call ESU.
“Mark,” he says, studying me carefully. “Why are you here?” There isn’t any judgment in his tone. Not yet, at least. Right now, he’s just assessing how I fit into the equation.
“Ava and I are bonded,” I say quietly. The reaction is immediate. Heads snap up, and everyone’s eyes widen. “It’s a very recent development,” I add.
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re telling me you’re an alpha with a fresh bond, and your omega is being held hostage? Who the fuck let him out here?”
Henry clears his throat. “I did, sir. It was that or he caused a scene in one of the courtrooms.”
“Jim, I’m handling it,” I say. “But that’s my mate. Every one of you knows you’d be the same way if it was yours. I can help. I know that hallway. I know Ava. Please,” I beg.
He exhales slowly. “Can you track her scent?”
“She wears some pretty heavy-duty neutralizers,” I say, thinking it through. “But if she’s scared enough, it should bleed through. If that’s the case, yes, absolutely.”