Chapter seven
Callisto
The second hand sweeps around the wall clock with frustrating precision, marking long minutes where Zack could be doing anything; killing prison guards, for instance. Even if he’s not lashing out, they fucking tasered him in the yard, and he won’t know what the hell is happening. When registering for the prison’s visitations, every form and identification check chafed like a sweat rash on my nerves.
Now I cross one leg over the other as I sit in the waiting area, bouncing a foot impatiently as I wait. The scene outside the courthouse replays repeatedly in my mind, leaving me with one unanswerable question: what the fuck happened? Although I changed my shirt, the choking scent from the clay shell still clings to my hands, and now and then the whiffs make me freeze up momentarily all over again. I need to shower as soon as I’ve seen Zack.
The prison guard’s voice snaps me out of a daze. “Callisto Wren? The consulting room is ready for you now. This way, please.”
Finally. I jump to my feet.
I’ve done my fair share of prison visits, but this one feels far more inhospitable. Could be the cold concrete walls, or maybe the stares from the prison officers. Whispers trail after me as we walk past a staff break room:The feral’s lawyer. From the Wren family. You think he can get him out?
I grit my teeth. I will get Zack out because his mates need him.
As the guard ushers me through a doorway, an unpleasant thought trickles through my mind. What if I can’t free the wild alpha? Would Red accept me into the pack in his absence? My shoe catches on the floor, and I stumble as desire and opportunity consume my attention. For the briefest moment, I picture myself comforting the distraught omega, gently taking Zack’s place, and being the true partner to Rickon I should’ve been.
And then the image pops, fragile and hollow as a bath bubble.
The Jones pack doesn’t exist without Zack. As much as I’m suffering, my heart says those three fit together. Both Rickon and Red need a man who gives them a thousand percent, and that guy is Zack. Or he will be once he’s learned how the world works.
I owe it to Red to ensure her happiness, even if that picture doesn’t include me.
The guard points to the chair on the far side of the table. “Wait here, and we’ll bring the prisoner to you.”
I clamp my lips tightly to bite back a sharp retort. They shouldn’t have charged Zack yet, let alone put him in prison. Instead of roaring at the guard, I plant myself on the cold chair and fish a voice recorder out of my bag.
Thankfully I don’t have to wait long. The door squeaks open, and Zack walks in, flanked by two guards. He simmers with anger as he tests the handcuffs locked around his wrists, his alpha scent unrestrained as always. He rumbles with a warning whenever the guards touch him.
The big alpha stops short when he sees me. “Cal-ee?” His blue eyes widen and his rumbling stops.
Warmth flushes through me as he says my name. And, as a bonus, he’s not upset about seeing me. I rise to my feet and scan him from head to toe, relief thickening my throat. From what I can tell, he’s unharmed.
“Ah, h-hello, Zack,” I stammer, realizing I’m staring. “Come sit down.”
So far, so good. They wouldn’t have let him have a legal consult if they’d thrown him in solitary confinement, which means he probably hasn’t hurt anyone. Yet.
The guards keep a firm grip on Zack’s elbows. The one on the left clears his throat. “Mr Wren, as an attorney, it’s your right to meet alone. However, we need to warn you this inmate is classified as dangerous.”
I hold up my hand to stall the guard, their presence more irritating than any threat from the wild alpha. “Who said he’s dangerous?”
The guard who spoke stiffens and glances at his partner guiltily. “He resisted arrest and tried to escape on arrival.”
“That’s a crock of shit,” I spit out. “He was trying to talk to his lawyer, not escape.” I shake my head. Damn, maybe I screwed up by calling out to Zack at the fence. I turn back to the alpha in question. “Zack, are you going to attack me?”
He lifts his nose in the air. “You challenge me?”
I grimace. “No, I won’t challenge you.” Not today, at least. Turning to the guards, I say, “We’ll be fine. I’d like to speak to my client alone now.”
They wait until Zack sits down before releasing his arms, and both men turn back with reluctant gazes before finally closing the door. True, most of my previous clients were involved in business crimes and therefore not considered dangerous, but this treatment still feels oddly targeted.
I sigh and sit down opposite my most unexpected client.
Zack stares at me, gaze narrowed and surly. We haven’t been this focused on each other since that fateful night when he threw me out. It’s hard to say how I feel about Zack—a strange mixed bag of concern on Red and Rickon’s behalf, natural wariness for another alpha, and something more bitter from our specific history. But also relief that he’s okay.
“Phew,” I huff out. I reach over and tap the recorder. “I need to record what we talk about today. Can I turn it on?”
He tilts his head, studying the charcoal-gray box. “Act?”
