Page 13 of Understanding Fate

When I creep out of the bathroom, the lights in the room are turned off. It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, so I fumble over to the bed, making an effort not to wake Ghost up. In the process, I stub my toe on the corner of the nightstand.

“Damnit!” I whisper-shout, attempting and subsequently failing to stay quiet.

Movement in the corner pulls my attention, and I see Snowball curled up next to Ghost’s bag, head now perked up, a lopsided grin on his face.

“Be up at seven. I’m going to that meeting. Phone or not. Contract or not. I will not spend my life in hiding. You need me alive? You can shadow me to the building and back. That’s it,” I say, my confidence stronger when talking to him in this form. “Night, Snowball,” I finish, a cheesy grin on my face once I get fully tucked in.

If there are people who want to kidnap me, then I will do my best to be safe. I will make sure I’m never alone. I know they can’t reveal themselves to humans, so I will stick with ordinary people—safety in numbers and all that.

As I fall asleep, I review my pros/cons list.

Pros: Snow, Dream job, Fresh Start.

Cons: Liv, Keith, Cain

***

Walking into Boston Digital feels surreal. When I imagined coming to work here two months ago, it was the bright spot at the end of a long tunnel. Today, as I stand in the modernly decorated open front lobby, all I feel are nerves.

It could be related to the kidnapping contract, or the man I know is following somewhere in the shadows, ensuring I don’t actually get taken.

I wish I knew his role in this.

“Good morning! Thank you for calling Boston Digital. How may I direct your call? Absolutely, one moment, please.” Buttons are pushed as the receptionist sends the call through.

I remove the thick jacket I brought to combat the cold and fold it nicely over my arm, which is carrying my leather laptop bag. Both were gifts from Liv’s parents for my birthday this year, and, as the chill hits me, I’m grateful they thought of them.

Squaring my shoulders and lifting my chin, I walk up to the desk with a smile. The girl behind it glances up and gives me the gesture for one moment before speaking again.

“Good morning! Thank you for calling Boston Digital. How may I direct your call? Yes, sir, I can get you right over. Just one moment, please.”

This time, when she places him on hold, her attention returns to me.

“Hi there! How can I help you?” she asks. Her voice and expression are naturally kind.

“Hi, I’m Brielle DelaCourt. I’m here to see Ethan,” I respond, temporarily forgetting his last name and wishing I’d had my phone connection to look it up before coming in.

“Brielle! Yes, he said you would be in today. Have a seat, and I will have someone bring you to his office in just a minute,” she says before flipping back to answer the phone call, which has her desk flashing with the red hold light.

Nodding, I turn and walk over to the seating area she indicated. I choose a seat away from the window and place my back to the wall so I can see anyone approaching.

See, look at me being aware of my surroundings. Take that, Casper!

As I wait, I smooth away wrinkles in my navy blue dress and pick imaginary lint from my off-white blazer. My hands cannot stay still without my phone distracting my nerves. Not to mention, I don’t typically wear dresses in my current job, so I feel a bit out of sorts.

Liv helped me choose my three work outfits for this trip: two business-professional ensembles for office days and one night-time professional look since I might end up going out with the team. It's a Thursday, and I don’t fly out until Sunday night, but I wanted time to explore the city this weekend.

Not sure that will be allowed now.

“Brielle?”

I jump at the sound of the woman's voice.

“Sorry to startle you!” she exclaims, causing me to turn in her direction. “I’m Tristan, Ethan’s assistant,” she finishes with a polite smile.

“I’m so sorry. I guess I was lost in thought. I’m Bri,” I say, extending my hand for her to shake as I stand. She’s my height and appears to be about thirty, with her long dark brown hair pulled back from her face. A pop of purple underneath catches my eye and makes me think of Liv, who has wanted to dye her hair purple for years but has never taken the leap.

“No worries at all. Let's get you upstairs, and we can set down your stuff so I can give you a tour.”

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