Page 1 of Thorns That Bloom
Chapter 1
Sam
Mybarely-a-lawyerfirst-year associate scrambles around his papers, a single droplet of sweat I fixate on rolling down his temple. He looks up at me, and I somehow already know what his words are going to be. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Snyder, but I am afraid that…there’s nothing more we can do at the moment.”
The disappointment that passes through me is dull. I expected this, didn’t I? My heart doesn’t even sink. After all, it’s been sitting low in my stomach for the past three months.
I’m tired. Exhausted. What’s the point of responding, anyway?
He watches me, squirming in his seat and narrowing his eyes like he’s uncomfortable with my lack of reaction. And if I hadn’t received so many looks of pity to the point that just a hint of it makes me nauseous, I maybe would’ve appreciated the pained, guilty expression on his face.
“I consulted some of my colleagues. I even took it to the partners,” he assures me hastily while I unfocus my eyes on the wall behind him. “It’s—” He sighs. “We could still try to bring the case back to the court, but they will call for it to be dismissed again and…most likely succeed.”
“What a predicament, huh?” I murmur.
The guy is so green I could basically play golf on his face. And for a moment, I want to. Want to smack him in the head with a golf club.
I quickly suppress those urges. The therapist I saw would probably say that these thoughts aren’t productive. He’s not the one I should be angry at, anyway. It’s not his fault. The flaw is in the system. In this shitty, cruel world and the way it functions.
Or am I the problem? I try to figure that out every single day.
Taking a shaky breath, he darts his hands across the legal paperwork on the table and then continues, probably thinking that giving more detail will somehow make me feel better. Perhaps he knows it won’t, andthatis why he drones on, driven by his guilt.
“What happened— This exact situation is why the laws ‘protecting’ alphas in case of extreme pheromone-related sexual situations were put in place. I…I entirely sympathize with how unfair they might be,” he says, swallowing his words while he loosens his tie slightly, “believe me, sir. What matters is that these laws, unfortunately, have very little room for us to argue that what those men did while they were in rut, and you in heat, was legally their fault or fully in their control.”
For the first time today, a ping of sharp,realemotion rushes through me.
“So whose fault was it?” I ask, scowling back at him. This beta has no idea. He recites the law, the letters on the paper, and tries to understand, but he can’t.
“I’m sorry, sir, I— Of course, what happened was not yourfault,” he assures me before escaping my gaze, gulping so loudly I hear it. “I was, in no way, implying that.”
His gaze flickers over the USB drive lying in the plastic bag on the table. A copy of the CCTV footage, which was our largest and most important piece of evidence, is on it. I can tell it makes him squirm. Iknowhe’s watched it, and that makes me feel naked and slimy in my skin the moment that thought enters my mind. In the hot flash of pathetic anger coursing through my veins, I wonder if he thinks of it right now.
Is that all I get? Everybody just looking in, feeling sorry for me? Feeling uncomfortable?
I wish I’d never seen it. Even if there was nothing explicit, the brutal clarity of it hurt. There I was at the start—walking into the restroom, sweaty and unwell as I went there to deal with the unusual intensity of my heat that day. All I needed was a moment to breathe. Some cold water to splash on my face and a chance to collect myself.
About a minute later, a group of boisterous, chatting alphas walked in. Five men. All tall and dressed in expensive suits. The best and brightest of the rising workers in the company.
Then, the time skips. Thirty-seven minutes. Thirty-seven minutes of…unseen atrocities.
They exited first, adjusting their ties and straightening their blazers. Patting each other’s backs. Laughing. Off to continue their workday…
Twelve minutes later, I walk out. Holding onto the wall. Trembling. Dizzy. My clothes a mess, my hair a mess, my world completely, utterlybroken.
Sharply, I close my eyes. Tightening my fist under thetable, I draw a slow, deep breath. I tell myself that someone in that footage was not me. It was somebody else. Had to be.
The small, dinky conference room is quiet for a moment until the lawyer speaks again. “I will see if I am able to transfer you or find an attorney who’s a little more high-profile and willing to work on your case pro bono, but…like I said, it unfortunately doesn’t look good.” He gathers some courage near the end, firming up his voice.
I open my eyes slowly, looking at him. If anything, at least he’s giving it to me straight. No more dancing around. No more false hope. I can appreciate that if nothing else. Regardless of this entire meeting being a waste of time.
“Torken is a massive company, so their lawyers are cutthroat, frankly. You were in heat. The defense is going to use this against us. It will be hard to argue. Alpha going into a rut and throwing themselves on an omega because of an extreme hormonal reaction? Despite the laws being so strongly in their favor in this state, we could handle that. Unfortunately, the fact that you were in heat and emitted strong pheromones can easily be used to get them off the hook. Not to mention—”
Something about my reaction makes him stop. My entire body feels hot and numb, and my heart pounds loudly inside my head, before my brain even fully comprehends where his sentence was going.
“Not to mentionwhat?” I mutter, pressing my hand over my stomach.
The attorney sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.
