Page 2 of The Lab: Rigg

Was this level of precaution overkill? Maybe, but it wasn’t just me anymore.

Inside the car was my briefcase. It wasn’t very professional inside—really just a tote bag, a cap, and a pair of flip-flops—but it was part of the look. I hadn’t driven the car in quite a while and was grateful when I turned the ignition and it started.

For the next forty-five minutes, I drove to Oak Grove. I had a place not far from there, but I’d been keeping the kids in the cabin where it was safer. This time, I parked on the street and then went straight onto a bus. I made sure to go the long way back, using three transfers just to confuse anyone who might try to find me. There were more cameras in the city now than ever before, and I couldn’t get caught.

All right, you can do this.

I walked inside the bank and waited my turn. This was the bank John Wallace Stockard used. He was one of the big wigs at the lab in Oak Grove, and I was currently wearing his face and clothes similar to those that he would normally wear.

Glancing between the tellers, I saw one who obviously recognized me, giving me a smile and a half wave. I crossed my fingers she’d pick me. I didn’t have any ID, and I really needed this cash.

Fate was in our favor.

“Mr. Stockard, welcome! What can I do for you today?”

I walked up to the counter and handed her the signed check—the one I’d stolen last time I was in the lab. I’d made it out for $8,000, figuring that was a safe amount but not enough to trigger any warnings. “Just a quick withdrawal.”

“Hey, I hate to do this to you, but I need to ask what the money is for—you know, regulations.” What she also needed to do was check ID, but I wasn’t going to tell her that.

“Oh yeah, of course.” I coughed and sniffled, hoping she didn’t notice my voice wasn’t quite right. I was pretty good at matching them for people I’d met in real life, but for John, I went by a social media video his kid made and it was close enough, I hoped. “Wren, at the office, his husband is about to have a baby, and we decided to do a money tree.”

“A money tree? I haven’t heard of anyone doing those in ages. It’s such a practical gift and very generous.”

I shrugged and tried to seem humble. “Well, we collected it as a group. I’m just the one bringing in all the cash. You know how people are these days with their money transfer accounts.”

“I know—hardly anyone even comes in here anymore.”

I’d written “Wren baby gift” on the memo line and hoped that was good enough to move on. What I didn’t tell her while she was getting me my cash was that Wren was the closest thing I had to an omega father. He was my birth dad, my lab surrogate. I never met him, but my alpha father told me about him. And the money was technically for me, so there were no lies there.

But also—it was going to let the lab know that somebody had been in there.

Was I playing with fire? Absolutely. But I had kids to protect now, and there would be no real future for them while the lab was still going. It had to be shut down. There was no other way. Something told me putting them on edge was a good idea. If I was lucky, it would cause internal conflict.

She came back with an envelope of cash, and I thanked her and told her to have a great weekend. I walked out with the money safely in my briefcase, grateful she was human and couldn’t hear how fast my heart was beating in my chest. The cameras would be easy to access and see the entire conversation, so Mr. Stockard would be looking for who stole from him.

But that was okay.

I had a plan.

If a plan was a sort of formed group of random ideas.

Back on the bus, I finally took a deep breath and then made two more transfers until I got to the main terminal. Back in the bathroom, I took off my shirt and shoes then swapped them out for the flip-flops that were in my briefcase, as well as the hat. I shoved the unneeded clothing back in my bag. Underneath the slacks, I’d been wearing an old beat-up tee and ripped jeans. I morphed my face to some guy I saw in a lemonade commercial years ago and put on the cap.

The next bus was already there, so I climbed on and headed back to my car to go back to the parking lot where I would change back into my sweats and take my motorcycle back to the kids. It was an arduous journey, but it was better to be safe than sorry. For now.

The $8K would be enough money to get us by until I could figure out something else.

One thing was for sure—I had to figure something out quick. Life couldn’t go on like this. Not for me, and certainly not for the children.

2

NILES

I ran out of my apartment and jumped in my beater of a car, driving as quickly as I could without getting pulled over. Heading straight to the turnoff would lead me to the only space I knew was safe to shift around here.

Being a rogue meant I couldn’t shift on any pack territory. And I understood why those rules were in place. Packs didn’t want to deal with other people’s political downfall, and most rogues were rogue for a reason. They weren’t all bad, but generally, it meant they weren’t overly compliant with pack rules and regulations.

If you couldn’t follow pack law, you needed to stay off pack land, especially those that weren’t yours.

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