“I don’t like the idea of you going in there by yourself, Alpha Hannah. Not after what that bastard from Darkmoon did to you.”
I frowned, tugging my hood up and glancing out the car window at the seedy dive bar on the corner. My guards had been especially on edge lately after my little incident with David in the parking garage, and for good reason. The night it happened, I’d told them I’d be fine on my own, that they didn’t need to hang around while I picked up my car. And I had been fine. Sort of.
“Just… wait here,” I said, opening the car door. “If I walk in with a gaggle of guards, WhiteRabbit won’t talk to me. You know the drill.”
My head guard, a tall and muscular woman named Emily, growled in response but didn’t argue as I stepped out of the car. Pulling the blue surgical mask over my nose and mouth to further conceal my identity, I took a deep breath and entered the bar. The stench of stale beer and cheap cigarettes assaulted my nose, even through the mask, making me wrinkle it in disgust. My eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim lighting; neon signs cast blue and purple hues across the room.
The bar was a seedy place, to say the least. The kind of establishment where you’d never expect to see an Alpha, especially a female Alpha, hanging out with online drug dealers. So, to avoid suspicion, I walked up to the bar and ordered a drink. The bartender, a gruff man with a half-shaved head and arms covered in tattoos, grunted in response to my request for a rum and coke and walked away to make it.
I scanned the room while I waited, my gaze passing over groups of patrons at various tables and booths—playing cards, smoking cigarettes, some slumped over with their heads down and half-full bottles of liquor dangling from their fingers. I tried not to stare too long, not wanting to look out of place.
Finally, my eyes settled on a corner booth where a lone figure sat, their face obscured by a hoodie. As I watched, a phone screen briefly illuminated their features. A moment later, my own phone buzzed with a message from White Rabbit: “Yes, it’s me.”
Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my drink and made my way to the booth, my fingers brushing against the knife in my pocket as I slid into the seat opposite them.
“WhiteRabbit,” I said, keeping my voice low.
The figure looked up, and I found myself staring at a shockingly young girl. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen, with incredibly pale skin that almost seemed to glow in the dim light. Dark circles rimmed her large blue eyes, and pin-straight black hair framed her gaunt face. She was dressed in streetwear—various reflective straps catching the light—a white hoodie that looked about four sizes too large, and oversized headphones hanging around her too-thin neck.
“You can just call me Jen,” she said without looking at me, her fingers tapping furiously on her phone. I frowned, glancing down to see that she was playing some sort of mobile game. She cursed as a large red “GAME OVER” appeared on the screen, and she slipped her phone back into her pocket.
I raised an eyebrow, studying her face carefully. “Jen. Is that your real name?”
A smirk played at the corners of her lips, a hint of amusement in those enormous blue eyes. “Would it make a difference if it was?”
I shook my head, conceding the point. “Jen it is, then.” I leaned back in the booth, trying to appear relaxed despite the tension coiling in my gut.
Without a word, Jen produced a folded note from her pocket and slid it across the table. The paper was slightly yellowed, as if it had been carried around for a while. I…