We didn’t even get to be happy for a full fucking week before everything went to shit. If I just would have taken a breath, asked for help from Dom or Grayson, maybe I could have harnessed my anger and not hurt Garth as much as I did. I wouldn’t be carted off to jail, my freshly bonded Omega right off of her heat left to suffer at home. Fuck, she’s going to be a mess without me around, I need to figure out how to get out of this, and fast.
The way he spoke about Cami, knowing how much she’s suffered because of what he did. I just couldn’t control myself.
She deserves someone who can be rational and protect her without getting themselves fucking arrested.
Selfish.
I’m put in Alpha block immediately as they file my charges. I’ll be meeting with a judge within the next two weeks, they tell me.
It’s my first full day, and all I can do is just lie in my bed, staring at the sagging mattress of the top bunk above me. My cellmates have similar plans, as they don’t go to the common area either. I’m still exhausted, but I haven’t been able to sleep. Anxious thoughts creep into my head, and all I can think about is the pain I feel from Cami down the bond. It doesn’t help with all the noise at night in the cellblock. I would kill for an Ambien.
My roommates’ names are Butch, Connor, and Tire. I asked Tire how he got his name, and he said that once I could be fully trusted, maybe he would tell me. I hope I’m not here that long. While my roommates aren’t men I would ordinarily associate with, they have been kind to me since I was assigned to the same room.
“So, big man, you gonna finally tell us why you’re here?” Butch asks. The man has to be in his sixties. I wonder how much time he has spent in and out of jail. His hair is stringy and combed over the top of his head. He has a large beer belly and well-rounded cheeks. Butch looks like a homeless Santa Claus.
“Aggravated assault,” I reply.
“What the motherfucker do to lose his cool against a big fuck like you?” Tire asks. He’s tall and skinny, missing a few teeth, but nice enough.
“He hurt my Omega,” I reply.
Tire’s eyes go wide. “Aw, man. Get your big boy panties out of a twist. You won’t be here long.”
“What do you mean?” I ask Tire.
“You’re bonded?”
“Yeah, not even for a week.” Tire whistles.
“No judge is going to convict an Alpha for protecting his Omega. We’re hard wired for that shit. You’ll be fine.”
I scratch my beard. “I fucked him up pretty bad, and he wasn’t causing her physical harm.”
“Fucker was threatening your girl, though?”
“Yeah, blackmailing her with photos of her heat.”
“What a sick fuck.” Butch says.
“Did it feel good, fuckin’ him up?” Tire asks with a glimmer in his eye, like he’s having a flashback.
“Yeah, it did. But I think my Omega is scared of me now.”
“She say that?” Tire asks.
“I felt her fear down the bond,” I tell him. I’m a little concerned about how comfortable I am discussing my life with my fellow inmates.
“These young pups—always diving too deep into the bond,” Connor says. He’s almost as big as me. Definitely gives off some Irish mafia vibes, probably mid-forties, dark brown hair, pale skin and freckles.
“If anyone knows about bond privilege, it’s Connor,” Tire tells me.
“What do you mean?” I ask Connor.
“I’ve had a bonded for over two decades. The emotions are too difficult to read. Don’t assume the context. It will get you into the doghouse,” he tells me.
“How does your bonded feel about you being in jail?”
Connor glares at me. “The missus knows what the life is about. My pack takes care of her, plus I get bond visits and heat privileges.”
