Chapter 7

Allison's POV

For a very long moment, I'm certain it's a prank. I pull the phone away from my ear to stare at it with wide eyes. Elsa and Ian's gazes snap to me, immediately concerned.

"What—" Elsa starts to say.

"Rachel," I mouth immediately.

Elsa closes her mouth right away. We don't know what Rachel wants. It won't be a good idea for her to find out that Elsa is here with me, in case she's in another bitchy mood.

"Allison Omega Carter," Rachel says in a cold voice, "you're not ignoring me, are you?"

Yikes.

"No, I'm not, Miss Fisher," I say quickly. "How may I help you?"

Even through the phone, I can tell that she's rolling her eyes at my usual polite tone.

"There is, in fact, a way you can help the company," she continues. "However, this is something I would rather say in person. Anybody could be monitoring this phone call."

"Alright…" I respond, still trying to process the information.

"Meet me at the Goldbrew cafe tomorrow morning, by ten," Rachel says, still ordering me about like I'm her inferior at work. "I know it's too much to expect you to show up on time, but do try. That will be all for now—"

"Not so fast, Miss Fisher," I cut in.

From the corner of my eye, I can see Elsa and Ian gaping with shock at me.

I know, Elsa, Ian, I think. I know it's surprising to hear me talk like this, even if it's to Rachel Fisher.

The most shocked one is Rachel herself. More than shocked, she's affronted.

"You—" she splutters. "How dare you, you lowly Omega—"

"You're the one that called this lowly Omega," I say, shrugging even though I know she can't see me. "And I think you're forgetting something important. You can't give me orders anymore, Miss Fisher. So if you need my help, you'll have to come to the Omega outskirts and find me."

"You expect me to come to that— that filthy place?" she demands, sounding like I have insulted her entire lineage by suggesting such a thing.

I shrug again.

"You could always not," I reply.

"Fine," she snaps. "If that's what it takes, then I'm coming. I'll be there tomorrow, and you better not play any more games then."

"I'll be expecting you then, Miss Fisher. Good day," I say.

She cuts the call without another word. I lay the phone back on the table only to look up and see my friends staring at me like I've somehow changed color.

"What?" I ask.

"What, she says," Elsa replies, still looking amazed. "Girl, what was that?! Did you just talk down the almighty Rachel Fisher?"

I find myself blushing at that.

"It's really not a big deal," I say with a nervous smile.

"Not a big deal?!" Elsa exclaims. "Of fucking course it's a very big deal! It's not everyday you see someone work up enough nerve to put Rachel Fisher in her place like that. Who is this badass, and what has she done with my best friend?"

I can't help smiling at that.

"So?" Elsa continues, eyes shining with the promise of gossip. "What did she want?"

"She didn't say," I reply. "We'll have to find out tomorrow, when she gets here."

……

I'm not surprised to see Rachel approaching my father's house by exactly ten the next morning. Despite her many faults, she is a very efficient person.

I watch her pick her way carefully through the filthy street, nose wrinkling from the odour of the chunks of bloody meat hanging in a butcher's shop, attracting flies in their numbers. Some of the insects settle around her, and I bite back laughter as I watch her swat them away.

It's obvious that she has never been to the Omega outskirts. Her discomfort is written plainly in her rigid posture. She isn't even dressed right. Nobody who knows anything wears an obviously expensive silk jumpsuit with pure gold jewelry and a fancy clutch to the Omega outskirts. She's sticking out like a very sore thumb.

By the time she gets to my balcony, she looks disgusted enough to throw up.

"Good morning, Miss Fisher," I say. "Would you like to come in?"

Rachel's face twists, as if she can smell something very rotten. She looks the house over like it has insulted her personally.

"Inside this hovel? No thanks," she replies with disgust.

I don't want you inside it anyway, I think.

"I have lemonade," I offer. "Would you like some?"

She looks at me like I've just told her to drink poison.

"I would rather not get sick," is her arrogant response.

I shrug, thinking "Suit yourself."

"I'd like a chair to sit on, if you have those here," she says.

I'm tempted to tell her that we don't, in fact, have chairs in the Omega outskirts, and that we squat instead. Just to see what sort of face she'll make. But I can't court trouble like that. She may be a bitch, but Rachel Fisher is still the Alpha's assistant.

"Right away, Miss Fisher," I say instead.

I head into the house and emerge with a wooden chair for her. Rachel sits stiffly, her back straight as an arrow. She looks around again, her lips curling in distaste.

"Is this building safe? It's not going to collapse on our heads, is it?" she goes on.

What the fuck is your problem? I think, bristling silently. But all I say is, "I assure you that it's safe, Miss Fisher."

Rachel doesn't look convinced. Thankfully, she lets it go. Instead, she looks out into the street, her nose wrinkling again.

"How are you people even able to live in this place? This is no different from an unkempt refuse dump," she declares.

"Oh, is it?" I reply, unable to keep the coldness from my voice. "This is what you and your class of elites have subjected us to. We're simply making the best of it."

Rachel rolls her eyes, as if I'm just an unserious child complaining about homework.

"Whatever," she says. "Anyway, let's get down to business. First, do you give me your word that nobody will hear of this? If anyone does, there'll be hell to pay."

As if I would risk my life by snitching, I think. I'm not a fool.

Like all high class werewolves, Rachel has heightened senses, and can easily tell if someone is eavesdropping on our conversation. So if whatever she's about to tell me leaks, she'll know instantly that it was my doing.

"You have my word," I reply, struggling to contain my curiosity.

"Good. We've run into a problem in the company. The central system has been corrupted, and we believe it to be the work of a hacker. We've been contacting the best software developers we can find to help with fixing the problem, and—" here, her lips twist again, like what she is about to say next tastes very bad, "... you're the only one who stands a chance at fixing it."

Did I hear right? Did Rachel Fisher just say those words?

I smile, folding my arms.

"No problem," I say. "I'll fix it."

She opens her mouth to speak, but I beat her to it.

"However, I have three conditions."

I'm not going to let this opportunity go to waste.

"Of course you do," Rachel replies with a smirk. "Well then, let's hear them."

I gulp, steeling myself.

"First," I say, "I want my old job back."

Her eyebrows go up, as if I've just suggested the most absurd thing.

"What a joke," she scoffs. "And what's the second?"

"I want to be paid for fixing it."

"How much?" she asks, looking amused.

I type out a sum with numerous zeros on my phone and present the screen to her.

Her raised eyebrows furrow, anger flashing in her eyes.

"This much," I reply.

"How dare—" she begins.

"And the third," I cut in before I can lose my nerve. I meet the rising anger in her eyes. "I want a new car. A fully furnished apartment, too. In the city."