She’s wearing a black dress, dark stockings, her hair up and off her face.
“I’ve been watching you all night,” she says, stepping closer. “Going back and forth between the bathrooms. Carrying that bag. Changing clothes. What the hell is going on, Anita? Or is it Ash?”
Oh, fuck.
9
ANITA
I’m frozen in the restaurant hallway, standing near the bathroom entrance with my backpack in hand, and Nina is staring at me like an interrogator who’s already solved the case and is just waiting for the confession.
The sounds of the restaurant drift back here—laughter, the clatter of dishes, the muted conversations—but this hallway feels strangely isolated. Private.
Panic floods my system. One of the guys could walk by any second. They could see me standing here as Ash, talking to Nina, who clearly knows something is very wrong.
I grab her by the arm without thinking. “I need to tell you something.”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
I pull her toward the ladies’ room, pushing through the door and checking quickly. Empty. Thank every deity in existence.
I drag her into the nearest stall and lock the door behind us.
Nina raises an eyebrow. “This is cozy.”
A slightly hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat. I’ve been in more bathrooms tonight than a plumber on overtime. At this rate, I’m going to develop a bathroom-related phobia.
“What is going on?” Nina demands, hands on her hips despite the confined space. “Because I’ve been watching you all night, and either you’re the worst spy in history, or you’re having some kind of elaborate identity crisis.”
“It’s a long story, and I’m going to come clean with you, but you need to promise to keep it to yourself. Please.” My voice comes out slightly desperate.
She tilts her head, considering. Her crystal-blue eyes are sharp, assessing. “Well, depends on what it is. I can’t be an accessory to murder or anything truly illegal.”
I chuckle despite myself. “I can only laugh because I’ve had the craziest night of my entire life.”
“I’m waiting.”
I take a breath and reach into my backpack, pulling out the plastic sheet I brought specifically for storing the facial hair. I remove the patch on my inner wrist too. “Okay. Yes, I’m pretending to be Ash. There is no brother. It’s just me.”
Her eyes widen as I start carefully peeling off the facial hair, pressing each piece onto the plastic sheet so the adhesive doesn’t dry out. “Holy?—”
“I run a radio show,” I interrupt, needing to get it all out. “Back in Portland. Late night. It’s all secretive, anonymous. The whole point is creating a safe space for Omegas to talk about things we’re not supposed to discuss. Questions we’re not supposed to ask. Problems we’re told don’t exist. No one knows my real identity.”
Nina’s eyes are growing wider.
“And there’s this asshole named Dr. Langston Reed who has his own radio show,” I continue, pulling off the wig now, shaking out my natural hair. “He’s constantly spewing garbage aboutOmegas. How we’re too emotional, how we need structure and rules and training, how we’re basically pets that need to know our place in the natural hierarchy.”
“Thatdick!” Nina bursts out, her voice sharp with recognition. “I’ve heard him on the radio. He makes me want to throw my speakers out the window.”
“Right? Exactly!” I’m pulling out the contacts now, blinking as my natural hazel eyes adjust. “So I heard some rumors about Wilde Charters possibly firing Omegas unfairly. Not hiring them. Pushing them out. And I figured I might come investigate for my followers. Go undercover, work for a while, get intel, find the truth. Either expose discrimination or prove it doesn’t exist.”
Nina just blinks at me, clearly processing this information dump. “Yeah, well, first, everyone around here knows Reed’s show. He’s broadcast regionally.” She shakes her head. “He talks about Omegas so badly. Like we’re incompetent children who need constant supervision.”
“Exactly. So I thought?—”
“You have brass balls,” Nina says, staring at me with something like awe. “Coming here alone, creating a whole fake identity. I’m so proud of you right now.”
“You are?” Relief floods through me. “You’re the first person I’ve told about any of this—well, aside from my radio producer back in the city. My real identity, the show, the investigation. I don’t even know why I’m telling you, but I like you.”
