30. Six Months Later

THIRTY

SIX MONTHS LATER

Silence fell over the courtroom. “All rise.”

Oliver groaned as he heaved himself out of the uncomfortable folding chair inside the witness box. He was certain they made those seats unbearably rigid just to put people on edge. The babe nestled in his belly thrashed about like the fucking kraken, as the sudden disturbance interrupted her peaceful slumber.

“Bring the defendant in,” the Judge said with a nod of her be-wigged head.

Oliver swallowed, as the clinking of chains echoed up the underground staircase. Patrick Coletta emerged from the custody holding bay, craning his neck to look across at the jury. He twisted the handcuffs around his wrists in some kind of misplaced display of dominance. It worked, because a good handful of the jurors dropped their gazes.

As a prison officer removed the handcuffs and shoved him down onto the bench, Patrick’s dark eyes slid straight to the witness box. They trailed up and down Oliver’s body, narrowing as they paused over the bump protruding from his navy blue suit. Resting a hand on his belly, Oliver cleared his throat again to bring the alpha’s leering gaze back up to his face.

Eyes up here, dipshit.

They glared at one another for a long moment, and Oliver felt—just a little—satisfied when he noticed the freshly split lip and deep worry lines marring Patrick’s face. Prison, it seemed, was not a kind place for child sex traffickers. The Judge gestured for them all to sit.

The trial of Patrick Coletta, Adrian Moore, Bartek Bosko and the other suspects had been ongoing for four weeks, and Oliver was sick to death of the court building. As were the twelve jurors, judging by their stony expressions. Oliver found it odd, though, that Patrick’s defence team had chosen to cross-examine him at the very last possible minute. Perhaps as a last-ditch attempt to cast doubt on the police? Either way, Oliver straightened when the defence barrister hummed and adjusted his robes.

“Oath or affirmation?” The Judge asked.

“Affirmation, Your Honour,” Oliver replied, taking the prompt sheet that was handed to him. “I do solemnly, sincerely, and truly declare and affirm that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”

The Judge nodded and turned to the defence barrister, who stood with a smug expression plastered all over his face. That was never a good sign.

“Detective Sergeant Reed,” the barrister said, giving Oliver a pointed look.

Oliver raised an eyebrow and leant towards the microphone. “White. It’s Detective Sergeant White. Your papers must be out of date.”

Because Lucas had, for all intents and purposes, marched Oliver down to the registry office to make an honest man of him the moment the investigation drew to a close. Oliver bit the inside of his cheek as he spun the obnoxiously expensive platinum wedding band around his finger. The tiny diamonds dusted across its surface felt oddly comforting under the pad of his thumb. He hadn’t asked for such a luxury, but marrying into a family of high end jewellers made it difficult to say no.

The defence barrister flushed and re-shuffled his papers. Oliver one, Patrick’s legal team, nil. He heard Patrick scoff from behind the perspex screen.

“Y-Yes, DS White,” the barrister said, the white curls of his wig sagging in the midsummer heat. “Is it true, DS Reed?—”

“White.”

“Is it the case, DS White, that prior to your tenure on Operation Sceptre, you were engaged in a romantic relationship with the defendant, Patrick Coletta?”

Nothing about the relationship had been romantic, but alright…

“That’s correct,” Oliver replied, tapping the toe of his shoe against the pedestal.

“And is it also correct, DS Reed?—“

“White.”

This guy had to be taking the fucking piss.

“—DS White, that you aborted Mr Coletta’s unborn child when he attempted to end the relationship?”

Oliver’s brows pulled into a deep frown. Straight for the fucking jugular, then?

“Objection Your Honour!” The prosecution barrister waded in.

“Objection denied. Continue.”

Oliver sucked his teeth and said, “That’s incorrect.”

“Is it DS White? Because your medical records state that you did.”

Oliver smirked and cleared his throat, deciding to test the barrister’s metal. “Do they?” Because there was no fucking way his GP would have granted access to his medical records without his consent.

“I’ll be the one asking the questions, DS Reed.”

“White.”

“DS White. My client also tells me you had him assaulted by your brother-in-law when he attempted to leave the relationship. Correct?”

“That’s incorrect.”

Oliver’s eyes slid to Patrick, giving him a look that said ‘you’re a fucking weasel.’ The alpha only smirked in return.

The barrister’s eyebrows disappeared under his wig. “Is it? Because I have the police report here,” he said, shuffling his papers. Oliver’s stomach dropped. He knew they’d bring it up, but it made him no more prepared for it. “It says here that one Dr Julian Smithson-Reed of Irving Way, West Newton repeatedly punched and kicked Mr Patrick Coletta before forcing him into the rear of his vehicle and driving him to the next town over. As a result of the attack, Mr Coletta sustained a broken nose, two black eyes and a broken wrist.”

Well, putting it like that made it sound fucking horrific. Oliver nodded, which drew a wide smile from the barrister. “So you agree, DS White?”

He sighed. “I agree with the wording of the report. But the assault was not arranged.”

“You agree that your brother-in-law attacked my client in 2017?”

Sorry Julian.

“I agree. But it was an act of protection under old pack laws.” He was about to blurt out ‘Because your client is an abusive, heat-hoping, sex trafficking scumbag that wouldn’t take accountability if it slapped him in the face.’ But—with Oliver’s mouth being the treacherous little shit that it was—he bit his lip and kept it to himself.

The barrister nodded. “I see, I see. A little excessive, don’t you think? Especially given that you also infected Mr Coletta with a sexually transmitted disease only one month prior.”

Motherfucker .

“That’s incorrect.”

“Is it? Because I think you’ll find, DS White, that your medical records show?—”

“Do you actually have my medical records or are you just trying to pull a fast one?” Oliver cut across him. Keep it together, keep it together, keep it together.

The barrister looked as though he was about to snap back, when the Judge cleared her throat and inclined her head. “ Do you have a copy of the witness’ medical records or not, my learned friend?”

Oliver loved it when legal people played the ‘my learned friend’ card. Respectful, yet mildly patronising.The barrister dropped his gaze. “No, your Honour.”

The Judge nodded. “Then I expect this line of questioning will be irrelevant, don’t you?”

One juror shook her head, which Oliver really hoped was aimed at Patrick’s legal team and not at him.

“Y-Yes, your Honour. Shall I move on?”

Oliver leant forward and pressed his mouth to the microphone. “Please do,” he said, tilting his head. He knew the question was aimed at the Judge, but he just couldn’t fucking help himself.

The barrister scowled. “Alright then, DS White. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you produced the report that led to Mr Coletta’s arrest, yes?”

Oliver cleared his throat and gently drummed his fingers across the top of his bump. It drew Patrick’s gaze again, but Oliver forced himself to remain focused on the barrister, because he was not going to let the defence team swipe his legs with an abuse of process allegation. He hummed and licked his bottom lip. “I produced a report following the diffusion day with Alfie Spears. Ultimately, it was an intelligence package that led the investigation toward Mr Coletta.”

“That you produced, yes?”

Oliver tried not to smirk as he shook his head. “Incorrect. I believe DC Purslow produced that report.”

“With whom you are good friends, yes?”

He coughed, catching sight of Nancy in the public gallery. He held up a hand to disguise the small smile pinching his lips. “Can’t stand the girl,” he muttered, running his tongue across his teeth.

The barrister frowned. “Sorry, DS Reed, what was that?”

Oliver dropped his hand. “White. I said that’s correct.”

Smirking, the barrister swished his black robe and turned towards the jury. “Then I put it to the jury that the sigma, Oliver White, with the help of DC Purslow, fabricated the report against my client in some ill-placed attempt at revenge.” He turned back towards Oliver.

Oliver tilted his head again and leant towards the microphone. “Sorry, revenge for what?”

The barrister looked pleased with himself, as though he had been rehearsing the whole sketch for days. “For Mr Coletta ending the relationship, and the loss of your unborn child.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow, contemplating the statement. “The relationship ended almost seven years ago. And I thought you said I had a termination. Why would I seek revenge for that?”

The barrister dipped his head and shuffled his notes against the desk. “W-Well, for the sexually transmitted infection, then.”

Oliver pursed his lips and gave the barrister a sympathetic look. “I thought you said I infected him ?”

The barrister slowly withered under the scrutiny of the courtroom. “W-Well, and the… the… report that my client… made… against your brother?—“

“You said I arranged the attack.”

The Judge rolled her eyes and waved her robed hand. “Sit down, my learned friend .”

The barrister crumpled in his seat, and Oliver could hear Nancy snickering quietly. “You are free to go, DS White.”

Oliver nodded as he slid from the witness box, ramming his tongue into his cheek to stop himself from grinning. He spared one final glance for Patrick as he strode past the perspex barrier that separated him from the jurors.

“Fuck you,” Patrick mouthed as he rose to his feet. The clinking of chains and low growls from the prison guards soon had the alpha retreating back to his seat.

Relief washed over him as he stepped into the busy waiting room. High Enfield Crown Court was not equipped to deal with such a large-scale trial, and people were packed together like a tin of sardines. He groaned as he wound through the crowd, whilst the baby karate kicked his ribs and tap danced on his bladder.

“Chill out, my girl,” he said, meandering towards the bathrooms at the end of the hall. Pulling out his phone, he was about to message Lucas to say he’d finished, when his face smashed into a rock hard wall of cotton silk and broad chest. Except the owner of said broad chest caught him by the shoulder, keeping him upright.

“Sorry—Oh, here you are,” Oliver said, scowling up at the six foot five sexy mafia boss. “I was about to text you.”

Lucas nodded and bent to kiss the top of his head, but Oliver jerked away. “Not here,” he whispered, eyes flitting to the gathering of news reporters at the far end of the waiting room.

“Were you the last to give evidence?” Lucas asked, directing them both towards the exit. The metal detectors pinged as they passed through, but the security guards only nodded and let them out.

“Of course. They wanted to go out with a bang.”

A sound rumbled in Lucas’ chest. “And did they?”

“Nah. More of a wet fart.”

Lucas chuckled, holding open the heavy double doors that lead to the freedom of the car park. “Did they bring up your history?”

Oliver shrugged, letting out a long sigh. “They tried, but the Judge quashed most of it.”

It was boiling hot as they stepped out of the air-conditioned building—the end of the British summer being as humid as ever. Oliver sighed as he slipped off his suit jacket, which Lucas took and hung over his arm. Oliver’s clothes felt tight, and everything ached. Not to mention he’d barely slept the night before; between the baby kicking his bladder, Lucas grunting in his sleep, and his brother texting him words of reassurance during the wee hours.

They’d all been restless in the week leading up to Oliver’s court appearance. That, combined with the twin pregnancies, sent the four-way pack bond fucking haywire. Oliver had laid awake long into the night, staring up at the ceiling of their moderately sized, newly renovated, four-bedroom cottage; thinking of all the ways he was going to be hauled over the coals the following morning.

It helped, however, that the cottage was in the arse-end of nowhere, and the nights were completely silent. Which was exactly how they liked it—Sasha, the cold-blooded mouse-catcher, included.

“Here,” Lucas said, handing him a packet of custard creams. “I thought you might need these.”

Oliver smiled as he looked down at the yellow packet, the swirling white font as familiar as ever. “Thanks, but I think I’m good.”

The alpha cocked an eyebrow. “Are you feeling alright, Reed?” He pressed the back of his hand to Oliver’s forehead.

Oliver slapped it away with a grin. “I am. And I’m not an addict, you know?”

When they were clear of the car park, they both slipped off their lanyards and held hands. They walked towards the grassy park, taking the long route back towards the police station. Despite the heat, they’d had very little time to enjoy the summer that year. Building a complex case that was ready for court had taken months of blood, sweat and tears from the entirety of Op Sceptre. A few of the Met officers returned to London, but many chose to stay; charmed by the country life.

“Oh, by the way,” Oliver said as they walked through a copse of apple trees. “Mum called. Asked if we fancy a bite to eat later. At least that’s what she said, but we both know it’s just an excuse to embarrass me with old baby photos.”

Lucas laughed. “It’s only fair, don’t you think? Pai’s shown you the entire back catalogue of my childhood, scrawny teenage years and all.”

Oliver chuckled and patted Lucas’ chest. “Eh, you weren’t that scrawny. And besides, something needs to level the playing field, given the handsome bastard you’ve grown up to be.”

Lucas’ lip peeled over his fangs as he wrapped an arm around Oliver’s waist. “I thought you were the handsome one?”

Oliver hummed and tilted his head. “I am. I married you for your charming personality. Oh hey, Hannah!” he said, waving to the blonde alpha as they met at the top of the park. “Nancy should be on her way back.”

Hannah nodded, smoothing out the wrinkles in her shirt. “Ah, cheers Oliver. She said she was meeting me for lunch. I didn’t expect court to take so long.” The alphas nodded to one another as they passed on the steps.

When they finally made it back to the police station, the corridor to the Child Protection Unit smelled—once again—absolutely diabolical. “Fucking hell,” Oliver said, covering his nose. “Why the fuck do they keep letting the boss cook fish in the microwave?”

Lucas chuckled, brushing his fingers along the small of Oliver’s back. “Because he’s the boss.”

Scowling, Oliver tapped a knuckle to Lucas’ sternum. “Well, you’re going to be the boss soon. You better not even think about microwaving something so offensive.”

Because as it was, Inspector Callahan decided that he simply could not imagine anything worse than managing two Detective Sergeant Whites in the final two and a half years of his career. So, he decided to take early retirement. Lucas passed the Inspector’s exam in the late spring, with the working agreement that he would take Callahan’s place the following autumn.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Lucas said, splaying his hand across Oliver’s belly. He drew a little circle with his fingers, which made the baby kick in response. “Not when Oliver White is running the domestic abuse team just down the corridor.”

Oliver nodded, a serious expression crossing his face. “Long live smell-free work environments. See you at five?”

Lucas grinned, leaning down to kiss to Oliver’s cheek. “See you at five, husband.”

“Ew! No heavy petting in the workplace!” Nancy shouted as she strode down the corridor with Hannah Whitmore in tow. “Ollie, the jury’s already made a decision! They’re live streaming it from the court.”

Oliver frowned as he glanced at his watch. “It’s barely been two hours. Surely not?”

“Apparently so! Come on!”

As he and Lucas were ushered into the Child Protection Unit, they shared a soft smile. And Oliver realised that, whatever happened, it didn’t matter so long as he had the six foot five, sexy mafia boss at his side.