To her credit, Anvi seemed just as concerned as I was. We both knew Bridget wouldn’t miss work for no reason. “Still no response. Do you think we should go, like, check on her?”
I considered that. I knew where she lived. I could talk to the people at the Omega Center and make sure she was okay. “I’ll go today.”
“Can I come with you?” Anvi asked eagerly.
“No. Someone needs to be here.” When her face fell, I remembered Bridget’s many reminders to soften my tone with Anvi. “What I mean is… I appreciate your offer, but I trust you to manage things in my absence.”
“Okay. I’ll hold down the fort.” Her expression cleared slightly. “Are you gonna talk to Lisbeth?”
I’d held off on talking to Lisbeth since Bridget didn’t seem to trust her. It felt wrong discussing her with someone who had been so hostile in their last interaction.
But things had changed. If Lisbeth had answers, I needed to know for my sanity.
“I’ll check in with her before I go.”
Lisbeth was in her office, thankfully. “Good morning! How can I help you, Nathan?” she asked with a hint of her old playfulness.
“Anvi and I are wondering if you’ve heard from Bridget. She hasn’t been at work in a few days and we’re concerned.” I kept my tone as professional as possible.
Lisbeth slapped her forehead. “Oh my goodness, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you. Bridget’s gone. She put in her notice on Tuesday.”
My stomach dropped, but I schooled my face. “Ah. That’s… surprising. She’s incredibly dedicated to the study.”
Lisbeth shrugged. “Who knows? But I’m looking for her replacement already, so don’t worry, you and Anvi will have some help soon.”
“She didn’t give you a reason for leaving?” I fought to keep my tone casual.
“She said it was a 'personal emergency,' but she’s probably off to chase that tennis player,” Lisbeth said dismissively, as if she didn’t know who Andrew St. James was, or didn’t care. “Don’t you have some work to do?”
For a split second, I considered that as a possibility. I had seen the way Andrew looked at her. It was how I would have looked at her if I wasn’t afraid of breaching the tenuous agreement we’d found to never speak about the night of the gala. Had she changed her mind about pack life and bonding?
I dismissed the idea. Even if she had changed her mind and wanted to pursue something with another Alpha, she wouldn’t just disappear on me. Or the study.
Which meant something else was going on, and I would figure out what it was.
I retraced the journey I’d taken with Bridget back to the Omega Center in Brookwood. We hadn’t talked about the fact that she lived in National Omega Network housing, but naturally I’d been curious. I’d mulled it over many times since then, in the hours before dawn. What had forced her into an Omega Center? Did it have something to do with her estranged mother?
I realized she must have trusted me more than I thought to show me where she lived, especially if she was hiding from something.
The Omega Center was a beautiful old Victorian home. I wasn’t sure how to go about asking for Bridget. What was the etiquette for an Alpha showing up unannounced? I didn’t think it happened very often.
As I approached from the direction of the train stop, I noticed a man standing at the corner. He was tall and broad, wearing a black leather jacket. With his dark hair and beard, he looked intimidating and his presence seemed like an ominous sign. But maybe he was just out for a walk.
I chose to ignore him. If he had some kind of nefarious intention, I doubted he would attack me in broad daylight in a nice Brookwood neighborhood. And I could always use my bark if I needed to.
I did my best to exude self-assurance as I approached the gate. There was a pedestrian entrance, as well as one for vehicles. The black wrought-iron fence was intimidating, and someone had added barbed wire since my last visit.
I stopped at the call box and considered what I would say to whoever answered.Hi, my coworker lives here and I want to know if she’s still alive, seemed a bit too dramatic.
Before I could press the button, the man called out, “Are they expecting you?”
I swallowed my annoyance. “Why is that any of your business?”
He glared, then stalked in my direction. I refused to back down.
He reached into his jacket, and I flinched instinctively. I was sure he registered the moment of weakness. But it was just a badge. “FPD,” he said, flashing it at me. “So it is my business.”
My panic reared back up. A police officer stationed outside the Omega Center was the definition of an ominous sign.
