Brogan was familiar with the lineup process from last year, when he’d done it for Senior Iverson, as well as several of the other wealthy men who’d bet on the fights. Picking a man out of a group of five as the one who’d raped him after a lost fight. Brogan had been a scrappy fighter until late in his pregnancy, and every time he won—especially against one of the men he now considered family—he’d hated himself for what they’d soon endure as the loser.

But none of that could be changed, and in the present, no one brought up that part of their shared pasts.

He and Mikel waited in a small conference room, until Higgs came to fetch Brogan for the lineup. Mikel didn’t look happy about staying behind, but this had to be by the book. Hamilton could afford the kind of lawyer who’d seize any possible chance to toss out evidence. Brogan had been part of a failed ID process once.

Never again.

Higgs led him to a small room with Prosecutor Awless and a strange alpha who made his skin crawl and was probably Hamilton’s attorney. Higgs went through the process of turning on a recorder, then identifying everyone in the room. Then he turned on the light in the next room.

Five men, all seasoned with gray in their light hair. Similar in height and build, and all wearing familiar orange jumpsuits. Brogan’s attention went immediately to number four, and he imagined him with sideburns and a mustache. Studied those cold, calculating eyes. Eyes that had laughed at his pain. Mocked his tears. Eyes that sometimes appeared in his nightmares.

“Number four,” Brogan said. “Twice. He won me twice.”

“Let the record show,” Higgs said, “that Mr. Brogan has identified Senior Freya Hamilton.” He switched off the light and the recorder. “Thank you, Brogan.”

“Can I go?” Brogan asked.

“I need to ask you a few follow-up questions,” Awless said. “And then you’re free to go.”

Brogan followed Awless back to the conference room, where Mikel greeted him with a hug. The questions were benign, considering the crimes, but this was only the arraignment. To see if a judge agreed they had enough evidence to hold and prosecute Hamilton. If it went to trial…well, Brogan knew the drill.

He and Mikel were about to leave when Jaysan and Morris walked in. Morris looked particularly annoyed, and Jaysan was breathing heavily. He was due in about ten more days, so Brogan imagined Morris was pissed about his mate being summoned for a lineup.

“Please, don’t speak to each other,” Awless said. “It could undermine the identification process.”

Brogan used hand signals he’d learned from Jax to say, “You look tired.”

Jaysan winked. “I am. So ready.”

They hugged quickly as Brogan and Mikel left. In the elevator, Mikel asked, “Is it rude to say Jaysan looks like he could pop at any second?”

Brogan laughed. “A little, but you’re probably right. After a while, you feel as if you’ve been pregnant forever, and you’re just ready to give birth. I felt that way with Peyton at the end.” He flinched at old terror over his son’s dramatic birth.

“What’s wrong?” Mikel squeezed his hand. “Did I say the wrong thing?”

“No. It’s no secret, but I never really told you how Peyton was born. I had a placental abruption, which put him in distress. The OB did a Caesarean to save his life and mine.” He rested his free hand over the scar on his abdomen. “It was terrifying, but Liam and Isa were there. And the others. We both could have died, but Dr. Troi saved us.”

“I’m glad. I can’t imagine my life without you and Peyton in it.”

The elevator dinged at the ground level, and they didn’t talk again until they were in the car. “Would you want to have another child?” Mikel asked.

“Absolutely, I do. I’ve always imagined myself with a big family.”

“But you almost died the first time.”

Brogan angled to face Mikel better. “True, but it’s also possible that the fights I endured are what caused the abruption. Or at least contributed to it. My last fight was two weeks before I gave birth. Will I worry over another pregnancy? Of course. They all come with some small measure of danger. But I won’t let that fear stop me from having the family I want.” A horrible thought stole over him. “Shit, you want more kids, right?”

“I don’t know, and that’s me being honest, because we promised honesty. I’m already terrified about being a good parent to Peyton. What if…what if my sire’s cruelty is passed to our child?”

“Cruelty isn’t in our DNA, Mikel. I truly believe that like love and compassion, cruelty is taught. We’re all born innocent. It’s the people who raise us, who shape us, and who love us that influence who we become as human beings. You’re a good man, and you’ll be a strong, loving alpha, because you had an omegin who loved you. Who taught you how to protect and love, and you’ll share that with our kids. I know it in my heart.”

Mikel drove Kell’s borrowed car in silence for several minutes, but his profile gave away his conflicting thoughts. Brogan truly believed what he’d said, but he’d also been raised in a very different environment than Mikel. It made it easier for Brogan to believe the best in people, despite the horror of the fight ring. Mikel had been tortured by his own sire for most of his life, and that imprinted itself on a person.

He’d also tried to protect his omegin and brothers from abuse, and that instinct said so much about who Mikel was, deep down in his soul. In the essence of the man Brogan was falling in love with.

“Thank you,” Mikel said once he’d parked in the Li driveway.

“For what?” Brogan asked.

“Everything. Your compassion and your loyalty. Less than a year ago, I wanted to die, and now I will fight any battle to live and be your mate. You and Peyton are my entire world, and there isn’t anything I won’t do for you both. You give me a reason to be a good man. A great alpha.”

“Don’t make me your reason to be better, Mikel. Be better for yourself. Let me and Peyton be a special bonus, but not the reason.”

Mikel held his gaze for a long moment, before nodding. They went inside. Kell had stayed behind to watch all three kids, two of whom were down for naps. Brogan helped him collect a sleeping Branson and Rei, and they strapped them into Kell’s car without waking the cousins. By the time Brogan saw Kell off and went inside, Mikel had miraculously coaxed Peyton into his own nap.

Alone and with at least an hour of free time, Brogan tugged Mikel into his bedroom. Mikel didn’t resist but an adorable shyness overtook him as Brogan pulled him over to the bed. They sat together, and Brogan tried to put everything he felt into his kiss. His gratitude, affection, need, and desire for his bondmate. Mikel’s scent and taste clouded his senses, and Brogan pulled him down.

Mikel’s broad body covered his, and they kissed. And kissed. Brogan ignored his erection, because this wasn’t about sex. This was about human connection. About the promises they’d made and Brogan’s hope for their future. They had time for other intimacies; he wouldn’t trade this for anything—this keen sense of being safe, protected, and loved.

The long, tender kisses turned to cuddling, and they existed in each other’s arms until Peyton woke from his nap, crying out for “Dada!”

Mikel went to collect him with a goofy smile on his face.

Once again, the Li’s came home to big news, and they celebrated with a pasta dinner out. The four of them, plus Peyton, and Brogan couldn’t remember a better meal. He also found himself studying everything about the restaurant, from the menu to the servers, even the teenage busboy who carefully loaded dishes into a bin, then wiped down the table. Then he imagined the servers delivering plates of his own food. His developed recipes.

And it planted the seed of an idea in his head.

The arraignment was two days later, and once again, their pack of omegas—minus Jaysan, who’d been having small contractions since the day before—entered the courthouse under a hail of questions from reporters. Only Brogan and Jax had identified Hamilton as their rapist, but Liam and the others were there as moral support. Kell also never missed a chance to speak to the press, which he was likely waiting to do until after.

They sat in the front row behind Awless’s table. Mikel, Ronin, Tarek, Isa, Morris, and Karter Jenks all sat in the row behind them. When the rear door of the courtroom opened and a patrolman stepped through, followed by Senior Hamilton, Brogan’s stomach twisted up tight. He’d hated identifying the man three days ago, and he hated seeing him again, no real barriers between them. Brogan was safe surrounded by so many law officers, but the constabulary still had a car watching the house. Trailing him around town.

It was…disconcerting.

Hamilton didn’t look in their direction once, simply sat next to his lawyer. Jax was on Brogan’s left, Liam on his right, and he held both men’s hand tight, taking and giving strength from his friends. Jax was unlike any omega Brogan had ever met. Already incredibly tall for his gender, he’d been bulked up by the fight ring, had grown out his hair and a long, thick beard, and could easily be mistaken for an alpha from a distance. His solid presence kept Brogan grounded as they faced one more challenge together.

“I still can’t believe he didn’t try to cut a deal,” Liam whispered. “Why go through the public humiliation of a trial?”

“Same reason as Iverson, I guess,” Braun said from Liam’s other side. “Pride and money.”

“It’s not as if his lawyer could have anything on us he could use in Hamilton’s favor,” Brogan added.

Judge Mendes took the bench, which gave Brogan hope. Sure, he’d presided over Kell’s murder trial, but he’d also been the judge for Esom Dent and Ness Udall’s trials, and Mendes had thrown the book at them during sentencing. Regular trials weren’t all that exciting, and arraignments could be even more boring. It was all about whether or not the evidence supported the charges.

Brogan and Jax’s identifications and statements were presented, and thankfully, Judge Mendes didn’t require them to speak. Senior Hamilton could still be offered and take a plea deal, but at the end of the session, he was remanded into custody pending trial, no bail. No bail, more than anything else, settled some of Brogan’s anxiety. Hamilton couldn’t get to him or Peyton while he was locked up.

Judge Mendes set the trial date to start jury selection eight weeks from today, which was after Brogan’s next heat. He’d either walk back into the courtroom mated to his alpha, or he wouldn’t. The eight weeks also gave the primary investigators time to find whatever else they possibly could to link Hamilton to the deaths of Brogan’s parents.

Despite the audio recording—Brogan had nearly broken down again hearing his parents’ voices in open court—and verification of identities, Hamilton’s lawyer had argued the hardest against that as evidence, since no one knew where it came from. Mendes required a source to prove it wasn’t obtained illegally, before he’d consider it as evidence during trial.

After court adjourned, Brogan didn’t know how to feel. He remained numb on the walk outside to the courthouse steps, where Kell and Braun took the lead in answering questions from reporters. Kell kept them focused on the “wealthy, entitled alphas who take without asking” aspect of the case, instead of focusing solely on Hamilton’s omega victims.

He was often amazed Kell didn’t receive threats over how he often spoke against alphas in public settings—then again, Kell might not share those threats with his friends. Once upon a time, such a thing had been grounds for arrest. But after the spectacle of Kell’s trial and Kell’s strong support within Chief Constable Underhill’s division, the press was open to more honest dialogues about how some alphas treated omegas and betas.

All the children had been left home with Jaysan, along with help from Demir Higgs, Dex Freel, and a family babysitter named Dory Acker, so their large group descended on the home once Kell was done giving his speech. They made for quite a crowd in the big house, and Brogan moved his way through friends and family to find Peyton, who was having a dandy old time playing with all the other kids: Karson and Jaxson, Branson, Gaven, Aeron, Rei, and Layne. The eight little boys were like a litter of puppies, rough-and-tumbling over each other on a big activity mat.

“There will be another down there soon,” Jaysan said, his belly appearing next to Brogan before the rest of him. “How was it? Seeing him?”

“It sucked.” Brogan wrapped his arm around Jaysan’s waist and leaned into his friend. “He never once looked at us. It was like he was…bored. Bastard.”

“Probably still thinks his money will get him off somehow, the smug son of a fucker.”

“Son of a fucker!” Branson piped up.

“Oh shit.” Jaysan clamped a hand over his own mouth.

“OH SHIT,” Branson yelled, clearly delighted with this new repetition game. He toddled over to Jaysan and grinned up at him. “Oh shit.”

“Let’s not keep saying that.”

“Why?”

Brogan started laughing just as Kell came over with a disgruntled look on his face. “Who’s teaching my kid to swear?” Kell asked.

“Unca Jaysan did,” Branson said in a solemn tone that made Brogan laugh harder.

After the last two weeks, Brogan hadn’t thought it possible to laugh so hard again, especially over something as silly as a toddler repeating bad words. But it felt so fucking good to laugh, and Peyton walked over with a curious look on his face.

“Omi better?” Peyton asked.

Brogan scooped his boy up and planted him on his hip. “Omi’s better, Pey-pey. Are you having fun with your friends?”

“Lots of fun. Let me down.”

Unable to resist the indignant order, Brogan put him back down, and Peyton rejoined the group. Brogan turned to Kell, hoping to come to Jaysan’s defense about the accidental swearing, but Kell was staring at Jaysan with an intense look. Brogan followed his gaze to Jaysan’s scrunched, sweaty face. Both hands were pressed low to Jaysan’s distended belly, and Brogan immediately identified the signs of a strong contraction.

“How bad?” Kell whispered.

“Ugh, not good,” Jaysan replied. “I’m a week from my due date.”

“But not too soon to be dangerous.”

“Is it labor?” Brogan asked. With all the voices in the downstairs of the house, their conversation was barely above a whisper anyway, even with Brogan and Jaysan’s muted voices.

“Maybe. Feels different than with Aeron.”

“Different how?”

“Sharper.” Jaysan’s wide, scared eyes met Kell’s, then Brogan’s. “Should I say something to Morris? Could be false labor.”

“And it could be the real thing,” Kell replied.

“I don’t want to worry—fuck!” Jaysan nearly doubled over, and it took both Kell and Brogan to keep him upright. Half the children stopped playing to stare at them.

Morris appeared by Jaysan’s side, his face a study of fear. “What’s wrong?”

“He might be in labor,” Brogan said.

“Oh shit.”

“Oh shit!” Branson repeated with glee.

Kell groaned.

“What do you mean, might be?” Morris asked. His already pale, freckled complexion went even paler. “Jaysan?”

“I don’t know, it’s similar but different from Aeron,” Jaysan replied.

Brogan’s own dramatic first delivery flashed into his mind. His placental abruption had required a Caesarean, and while he’d healed with no complications, he’d always carry the scar. And the memories of utter terror at losing his baby. “Are you having sharp pain in your lower back?” he asked.

“I’m not…oh.” Jaysan’s knees wobbled, and Morris somehow scooped his very-pregnant mate into his arms. They’d gotten the attention of everyone in attendance by now, and Morris walked right for the front door.

“Brogan, come,” Jaysan cried out, his soft voice barely making it. Brogan scrambled after his friend. He caught Mikel’s eyes in the crowd and said, “Watch Peyton,” as loudly as he could. Mikel nodded.

“We’ve got Aeron for you guys,” Braun called out.

Ronin held the front door open. “You need me to drive?”

“Please, boss,” Morris said. “I’m…um…”

“No problem.”

Their quartet hurried to the street, where Ronin opened the backseat for Morris. He deposited a panting Jaysan into the passenger side, then bolted for the driver’s rear door. Brogan threw himself into the front passenger seat, adrenaline and fear sending his blood pulsing into his ear. Considering his life in the fight ring, Jaysan’s first delivery had been quick and by the book, so why was he having trouble with baby number two?

They could be false labor. That’s probably all it is, he’s a week early.

Ronin drove with practiced ease, as in-control as any alpha Brogan had ever met. Brogan hated leaving his own alpha behind, but Peyton was in good hands with the man. He twisted around to watch his friend, concerned by the way Jaysan clutched at Morris’s hands, his face red, pinched, and pained. Ronin earned extra “awesome guy” points by snapping his mobile open and calling ahead to the hospital.

“Yes, I’m coming in with an omega in labor, second child,” Ronin said, “but he’s in distress and unusual amounts of pain. No spotting that I’m aware of. Maybe the last ten minutes? All right, thank you.” To the car, he said, “They’ll be ready for us.”

“Thank you, sir,” Morris said.

“I’m going to start docking your pay ten credits for every time you call be ‘sir’ outside the office.”

Jaysan snorted, then groaned.

“We’ll be there soon,” Brogan said, his heart squeezing with anxiety over his friend’s condition. Giving birth was always a scary thing, and the fear was only compounded by Jaysan’s unusual symptoms.

“Fuck, something’s not right,” Jaysan said. “I’m wet, but it feels wrong.”

“What?” Morris replied, his eyes bugging wide. “Where?”

Jaysan pointed at his backside. Morris helped Jaysan tilt to his right side, closer to the door, so Morris could look. Morris got Jaysan seated again, his face unnervingly calm. “Ronin, can you go any faster?” Morris asked.

“What? Why?” Ronin asked, even as he hit the gas pedal harder, zooming neatly around a slower car.

“What’s wrong?” Jaysan said, the naked fear in his voice knifing Brogan in the heart.

“You’re bleeding a little bit, sweetheart, that’s all,” Morris replied.

“That’s all!?” Jaysan wrapped his arms around Morris’s shoulders and pressed his face into his alpha’s armpit.

He’ll be fine, he’ll be fine, goddess, please! He has to be fine.

A little bleeding didn’t necessarily constitute an emergency, but they were all overprotective of each other. Jaysan had a little boy who needed him, and another baby on the way who’d need his omegin to nurse him through the earliest weeks. Morris needed his mate. Brogan needed his best friend. They all needed Jaysan to be okay. For all he’d lost and gained these past few years, Jaysan deserved his fucking happy ending.

They all did, even Brogan. And he wanted that happy ending to be with Mikel. But for right now, Brogan concentrated on his friend and getting Jaysan through the next few hours intact.

Mikel adored Brogan for his blind faith in leaving him in charge of Peyton—in charge, and also surrounded by Brogan’s friends and chosen family. People he wasn’t so sure had fully accepted him yet. Yes, they were polite and kind, but Mikel couldn’t help a sense of silent disapproval from the other alphas. He was the only alpha in their group who’d ever been physically violent with an omega.

So he held up a wall in the living room that gave him a good view of the kids. The whole “Branson cussing” thing had been hilarious until Jaysan had his emergency, and while most of the omegins in the house seemed excited about the pending birth, one sat silently in a chair with tea and did not engage. Kell Cross was expecting his second child in a few months, and Mikel knew from conversation that he had a potentially difficult delivery ahead of him. Part of Mikel wanted to reassure Kell everything would be fine, but he wasn’t sure reassurances from Mikel about anything would be welcome.

“So you’re Brogan’s bondmate?” an older beta man said upon approach. He was tall, despite leaning on a cane, broad as any alpha, and Mikel should have not forgotten his name already.

“I am. Mikel Tovey.”

“Dex Freel, Tarek’s best friend.”

“Right. Sorry, I’ve met so many new faces recently.”

Dex shrugged, never losing his friendly smile. “I imagine it’s difficult to integrate into this group, seeing as it’s so big. So many different dynamics.”

“It is a bit daunting.”

“It’s hard to believe sometimes that two-and-a-half years ago, my husband and I were going out drinking at all hours with Tarek, and now we’re all happily settled down with kids, and have this huge extended family.”

The mention of family kicked at Mikel’s heart a bit. “I imagine it’s a big change.”

“But worth it. My husband Serge is an only child, and I don’t talk to my birth family anymore, so we’re blessed to be here. How about you?”

“Blessed to be here and alive, I suppose.” Mikel didn’t want to unload his history with a stranger, though. “I adore Brogan, and I’m glad to have met him. He gives me a tangible goal, you know? A future to fight for.”

“I hear you. After I hurt my knee and lost any chance at my dream job, I sort of floated through life, working and fucking around. But meeting Serge? As soon as I laid eyes on him at a party, I knew he was the one. We hadn’t spoken a word to each other, but I knew. He didn’t make it easy on me, though.” Dex chuckled. “Now he and Gaven are my everything.”

“Why isn’t Serge here?”

“He’s at work. ICU nurse. He had to fill in for someone last-minute, or he’d have totally been here to support Braun, Kell, and Jax.”

“They’re all close?”

“Very close. Braun and Jax each lived with us for a period of time, and Kell can win over anyone without even trying.”

Mikel glanced at the fretting omegin in question. “He’s anxious.”

Dex followed his gaze. “Yeah. He will be until we get word about Jaysan.”

“Jaysan will be fine, though, right? He’s healthy and he’s close to his due date.”

“Yup, all good signs, but I’ve heard enough stories from Serge to know that things can happen without warning.”

Mikel thought of Brogan’s own bad first birth and shivered. “Thank you for speaking to me, Dex. I feel very out of place here because of my history with Jaysan. I know his friends will try to accept me for Brogan’s sake, but…”

“I get it. Just…be honest. This is a great bunch of people who thrive on affection and honesty. And be good to Brogan, or we’ll all kick your ass.” Dex winked, taking any real violence out of his words.

Mikel’s gut still rolled with fear.

“Shit, man, I’m sorry,” Dex said. “That was a stupid thing to say, considering.”

“Considering my sire was an abusive son of a fucker,” Mikel replied softly, unable to get his voice above a whisper for fear of angering any of the other alphas in the room. A stupid fear, but PTSD wasn’t rational.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. You were being protective of your friend. My issues are my issues.”

Two of the kids started crying all at once, and Peyton’s distinct wail put Mikel on alert. He waded into the pile, along with Liam, and they each scooped up their respective kid. “What’s the matter, little man?” Mikel asked.

Peyton’s scrunched face smoothed out and he pulled on Mikel’s ear. “Dada, where’s Omi?”

Liam’s eyebrows shot up, but he simply shushed Layne without comment.

“Omi’s with a friend right now,” Mikel replied to Peyton. “It’s you and me for a little while, big guy. Did you get an ouchie?”

Peyton tossed a sour look at the floor. “Pinched me.”

“Someone pinched you?”

“Want juice.”

Apparently, the pinching situation was over and done for the toddler, so Mikel retrieved a sippy cup from the diaper bag and carried him into the kitchen. Once there, he realized he was in Jaysan and Morris’s home, but both men had left. Shouldn’t he ask before giving Peyton their juice?

“Here, let me help,” a deep, gruff voice said.

Mikel pushed back against a flash of panic over that kind of voice—it was so similar to Sire’s, but also had a gentle edge that kept Mikel from dropping right to his knees. He’d only briefly been introduced to Liam’s mate, and Senior Constable Isa Higgs was a formidable man. Tall, barrel-chested, with an air of authority even among friends.

Higgs opened the refrigerator and pulled out two cartons. “Apple or orange?”

“Apple,” Peyton said with a delighted squeal.

“Apple it is.” Higgs filled the cup with the requested juice and handed it over to Peyton.

“What do you say, big guy?” Mikel asked.

“Dank you,” Peyton replied.

“You’re welcome,” Higgs said with a smile. To Mikel, he added, “Peyton and Layne have grown up together, so don’t take their little tiffs to heart. Toddlers squabble in their own unique ways.”

“Of course.” It was so easy for Mikel to forget how much history these men had with each other. “I imagine none of the children are ever lonely for long.”

“Not with this bunch.”

Peyton seemed content with his juice and wriggled to be let down. He toddled right back to the play blanket and his pack of friends. Mikel watched him go and grinned when Branson stood to give Peyton a hug. In some ways, it made Mikel miss his own brothers. He hadn’t seen any of them in weeks, and that was his own choice, not theirs.

Maybe he should reach out…

“Those young men have all come a long way,” Higgs said quietly. “Brogan, Jaysan, Liam, Jax. Suffered horrible things no man should suffer.”

“I know, sir. They faced their monsters without hurting other people.” Shame washed over him, and he leaned against the counter, head down.

“Oh shit, that wasn’t an admonishment of your behavior,” Higgs said. “Just a statement about the omegas and their shared history. Brogan comes with a huge, built-in family, and we all want what’s best for him.”

“And several of you are constables, I understand.” Maybe Liam had been teasing about his mate knowing where to hide bodies, but standing next to Higgs now, Mikel completely believed it.

Higgs frowned at him. “How about we start over, yeah? Isa Higgs, nice to meet you.” He stuck out his hand.

Mikel stared at the hand a beat, then smiled. “Mikel Tovey, nice to meet you too.”

The cheerful grin Higgs flashed at him settled Mikel’s anxiety over their previous conversation. Maybe the other alphas weren’t always judging him for his past actions. Maybe they could learn to accept him into their shared lives. And maybe, just maybe, Mikel could love Brogan and be happy.

Please.