And wait some more.
My head jolts up from the table when I hear the door open.
Damn, I left a bit of drool there. Embarrassing.
An older alpha with broad shoulders, red hair, and a frantic, exhausted sort of energy comes into the room. Papers are spilling out of his briefcase, and his cheeks are flushed like he just ran here.
“This is your public defender,” the cop who opened the door says with a shrug before closing the door.
Then the guy and I just stare at each other. There’s just something about him. I can’t put my finger on it, but he looks familiar. Have I met him before?
He stands, frozen, staring at me too. But he’s looking at me like he’s seen a ghost.
“What’re you looking at?” I ask, rubbing my mouth on my shoulder. Do I have drool stuck to my face or something?
“Forgive me,” he says, shaking his head. “But what do you know about your mother?”
I’m doomed.
I’m going to be locked away for the rest of my fucking life.
What the hell is a lawyer doing asking me about my mom?
“What the hell kinda question is that?” I ask, shaking my head in bewilderment. “You’re supposed to help me get out of this mess. How is that relevant?”
The lawyer’s shoulders slump forward, and he looks crestfallen as he makes his way to the plastic chair across the table from me.
There’s that strange sense of deja vu again. Like I’ve seen that look before.
But where?
Something twists in my gut.
Something is off about this situation.
“Sorry, I just—I just—“ He sets his briefcase down on the table, riffling through a bunch of papers like he’s trying to gather his thoughts.
I know my life is basically in his hands, but I feel bad for the guy. If the dark circles under his eyes are any indication, the guy’s being worked to the bone.
“My mom left me when I was a kid. Haven’t seen her since,” I answer, leaning back in my chair. I shrug my shoulders, trying to ease the ache from having them behind my back for so long.
The lawyer in front of me bursts into outright sobs.
It’s starting to freak me out.
One, because an alpha crying is a sight I’m unfamiliar with. Two, because, again, my life is in his hands and his ability to make a strong case that I’m not a terrible omega trafficker.
“I’m sorry... sir,” I say, trying to figure out how to get him to calm down. “But what’s going on?”
The lawyer takes a deep, shaky breath before nodding.
“Sorry, so sorry.” He clears his throat. “You—you look just like the photo my wife keeps of her old son.”
My blood turns to fucking ice.
What. The. Fuck?
The lawyer blinks at me hopefully. “She never told me your name, but she kept your picture with her all these years. Is your mother’s name Ruby?”
