Page 14 of Breeding Clinic

We’re shown the door. Once we’re outside and standing on the sidewalk, I study her. She’s small. The top of her head comes to my chest. She’s petite but curvy with nice, wide hips. Good babymaking hips.

She glances at me with a mutinous expression like I planned this or tricked her. If anything, I’m the one who feels tricked. She’s carrying my baby and there’s nothing I can do about it. I feel powerless. What am I supposed to do? Watch her leave with my kid? A child she didn’t mean to share with me?

What if she decides she doesn’t want to be tied to me and my pack?

“Please don’t do anything to hurt my baby,” I beg her.

She makes a disgusted face. “God, I would never.”

“Good.” Relief washes over me, easing the knot in my stomach. “Because I’m Catholic.”

“Oh, fuck my life,” Kat says, running her hands through her hair again. “This is a fucking disaster. I have to go.”

When am I gonna see her again?“Give me your number so we can talk about this.” The clinic wouldn’t give it to me. It’s been driving me up the wall.

She hesitates before she gives in. We add each other’s numbers in our phones.

“We should sit down and talk,” I say.

“Not today.” She rubs at her head like she has a headache. “I need to go home and vomit.”

Right. She did say that she’d been puking a lot. That’s normal. I think. “Okay. You’ll tell me if you need anything? I don’t care what it is or what time of day it is. If you and the baby need anything, I want to know. You’re eating healthy, right? I think there’s stuff on that list you can’t eat.”

“I know.” She sighs and fishes her keys out of her purse. “We’ll talk… later. Right now I just can’t.”

I watch her walk off with that promise and hope that I won’tregret letting her go. But I can’t do anything about it. It’s not like alphas kidnap omega brides from rival tribes anymore. Once her car, a nice and safe sedan, leaves the parking lot, I head to my truck.

How the hell am I going to explain this clusterfuck to my pack?

Chapter Five

KAT

“So in layman’s terms…”I ask the lawyer.

She puts her pen down and settles back in her chair. “It would be an extremely difficult case to win, and it would take a lot of time and money. I’m willing to represent you and try, but I can’t guarantee the outcome. The courts don’t like to take parental rights away if a parent will fight for partial custody of their child.”

“But he was only supposed to be a sperm donor.”

“I know.” Her eyes soften, but her frown is grim. “And I’d start by arguing that a contract signed while in the throes of estrus isn’t legally binding. Your mental state was altered. But they’ll counter that the mistake was yours at the initial appointment when you were not in estrus. That you picked a match from the wrong binder.”

“But they weren’t labeled.”

“Which is a system error on the clinic’s fault. If you wanted to sue them for damages, that would be a much easier case to argue. Their negligence and system issues caused you real emotional distress.”

I shake my head. “They refunded me the fees. And I don’tneed more money. I want my baby. He can’t take my baby from me.”

“He can’t,” she agrees. “But he can sue you for partial custody. A judge will probably grant it. I looked into him and his pack. No arrest records. A solid work history. The alpha owns his own small business, which employs about twenty people. And his packmates are clean. The Brazilian beta’s family immigrated here legally, and he’s a permanent resident. He works at the hospital. The other beta has several lawyers in his immediate family. Their lawyer will argue they’re all model citizens and pillars of society. I can’t find any angle to dig into them. I wouldn’t advise bringing a suit against his pack for full custody if you believe they’ll fight it.”

They will. “So I’m fucked.”

“Think about it and decide what you’d like to do. If you decide to sue the clinic, I can start that paperwork.”

Defeated, I take the business card she offers me and head out to my car. I sit in the shade and let the air blast my face. Then I grip the steering wheel and scream. People walking down the sidewalk stare, but move along. Nobody stops to ask the crazy, screaming omega why she’s losing her damn mind.

My phone rings, and Jen’s name flashes across my dash. I answer it.

“What’d the lawyer say?” she asks.

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