Page 1 of Such a Brave Omega

Chapter One

Bronson

As assistant district attorney, I represented the people of the county with diligence and zeal. For ten years. And I enjoyed the work, frustrating though it could be sometimes. And I probably would have stayed with it indefinitely if not for one factor. The election of a new DA who wanted to clean house and fill as many positions as possible with his friends and flunkies. Not that I could be fired without cause, but the office went from a warm and friendly place to the exact opposite.

There wasn’t anything dishonest going on, at least that I could determine, but I was not being paid enough to deal with the hostility. So, after a few months of this, I picked up the phone and asked if the large private firm I’d turned down three times before still wanted me to join them.

Best move I ever made. Financially, for sure. But also in the way it challenged me. Criminal defendants deserved the best representation, and it required a new perspective from me. I’d taken pride in all the evildoers I contributed to putting behind bars. So when I met with my first pro bono client behind bars, my inclination was to immediately get started on proving he committed the crime of which he was accused.

Looking at him, sitting there, one hand cuffed to a ring on the table in the tiny meeting room, watching me as if I held the key to the prison door, a shift in my mind announced itself with an internal clang. Every person I’d been charged with prosecuting had been entitled to someone on their side, and now that I was that person, I wondered how often they had not had adequate representation.

The senior partners in our firm had a policy that every new associate must do a pro bono first. And mine was a nineteen-year-old whose whole life was ahead of him if he could avoid a felony conviction. I knew how to get one but had never been in the position of stopping one until now.

The young man was swearing to me that he was not guilty.

Yet, I recognized how much my years on the prosecutorial side had given me insight into how defense attorneys worked. I’d faced these men and women in court and over conference tables as they told me why their client should not spend years in prison. They had never done such a thing before. There were extenuating circumstances. They were innocent of the charges against them.

Many people believed that what they saw on television conveyed the whole story of justice in action. Person commits crime, each legal team gathers evidence—incontrovertible in the case of the lead character of the show—then went to court and presented said evidence to the judge and jury. The jury went out and discussed the evidence and came to a conclusion. They came back in, presented their decision, and were done. The person was let go or incarcerated.

But what these shows rarely conveyed was how much of a case took place behind the scenes. In those conference rooms or, more common recently, over Zoom calls. Of course there was the evidence, lots of documents passed back and forth. Since most discovery had to be shared, there were few surprises once trial began—except the jury’s decision. Or the judge’s, if no jury was empaneled.

But many times, a deal was struck before trial. A plea bargain. Or perhaps the prosecutor, upon reviewing the evidence, decided that the case was weaker than it appeared at first and pulled it.

My nineteen-year-old client swore he was not guilty, that he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He’d never get into med school if he was found guilty. He was a shifter, and hewas determined to help our kind, something he could do much better if he had a human medical license. He’d already trained with his pack’s healer since he was a small boy, more valuable experience in my opinion.

I’d spoken with his pack alpha, his fathers, and some of the other elders in his pack and heard only good things, which made me more inclined to believe him than not. He was so young, so ready to help, and everything in me said he had not pointed that gun while committing a robbery. “So, why is everyone so sure you did it?”

“It was late at night, and I went in to pick up some energy drinks to make it through studying. I was waiting in line when all hell broke loose. There were two guys ahead of me pointing guns at the guy behind the counter and demanding money. I tried to get out of the way, but before I made it to the door, there were police everywhere.”

I’d listened to that young man’s story and believed him. Even if I hadn’t, I’d have defended him to the best of my ability. And he walked free. Since then, I’d faced judges and juries many times, earning both a lot more money than I had ever seen in the DA’s office and a partnership. Without those things happening, I’d never have been able to invest in the club.

A place where I could be myself.

Finally.

Chapter Two

Tate

“These didn’t get picked up. Eat them before you up and blow away.” Eddie slid a paper plate with two ham-and-cheese croissants in front of me, along with a to-go cup of coffee. I’d had his coffee before. It was saturated with sugar and creamer but at this point, there was no way I would turn down the extra calories.

Besides, anything was better than another round of beans and rice, which had been on the menu for me for months. Maybe years. Sometimes I couldn’t decipher one day from the next.

“Go on,” he prompted, shoulder-checking me. This job had kept me afloat only a few weeks, but the people were nice and Eddie tried to help me whenever he could. “Take your break.”

I picked up the plate along with the coffee and scooted out the back door, bumping it open with my hip. A vintage metal stool sat outside under a rickety awning. Sometimes the other workers would come out here to smoke or talk on the phone, a habit forbidden inside Donut Heaven except for Eddie, who took orders from his personal cell. Plus, he was the owner. He could do whatever he wanted to.

I scarfed both of the warm croissants down in minutes, burning the roof of my mouth on hot cheese, and washing them down with the coffee. A noise from the far end of the alley made me turn my head. A black SUV was stopped on the road. The windows were tinted nearly black—nowhere near legal.

Tingling trickled down my body, starting at the top of my head, but I tried to keep cool. I finished my coffee and raised my nose into the air, taking in every bit of scent I could. My wolf picked up a lot of different odors—it was a busy alley, after all,but the stench of wolves from Brad’s pack rose above the others. Not him, of course. He had others to do his dirty work.

Ice filled my veins, but I couldn’t let on that I knew.

Fuck. I had only been here a few weeks, and I was more careful every time I moved.

I no longer had a phone. Eddie hired me under a false name and paid me cash out of the till. The apartment was in a fake name. No digital footprint. Nothing.

I’d burned all my IDs and social security cards a month ago.