“Your Omega escaped through a broken drainage gate. Blood on the scene shows the direction in which she fled and that her bearing was not affected by broken legs. The trail was lost when she slid below mid-level and moved out over accumulating sludge.”

“How much blood?” Shepherd demanded, skimming the report in his hand for anything relevant.

“Considering the distance she fell, minimal. Internal bleeding may be an issue.”

His unforgiving gunmetal glare caught the light. Impatient, Shepherd growled, “She has not eaten in almost a week. She will not have been able to manage a great distance malnourished, shoeless, and bleeding.”

“Was she suffering from morning sickness?”

Shepherd turned toward his desk, his attention going back to the report. “Hunger strike.”

Jules, unsurprised by such a statement, remained blank. “When she is returned, what are your expectations of Miss O’Donnell?”

Exceedingly irate, Shepherd hissed, “For her to resume her duty as my mate.”

Only psychological damage would lead a pregnant, pair-bonded Omega to hunger strike and jump off a building in madness. Jules grew blunt. “And if that’s not possible? Whom do you intend to serve as surrogate Alpha to see to her until she delivers your heir?”

Muscles straining, Shepherd warned, “You presume much, Jules. She will be returned and her behavior corrected.”

Jules was second-in-command for a good reason—he was shrewd and willing to act. Employing candor, he stated, “Without physical contact the Omega will willingly accept, she may miscarry.”

Shepherd was not to be gainsaid by man or woman. His final order was issued. “You are dismissed.”

Grasping that the situation was beyond his original assessment, Jules saluted and removed himself from the room.

Shepherd took to his desk, alone. Memorizing the reports flashing on his COMscreen, every so often he habitually glanced behind him, expecting to see Claire pacing. But she was not there. She was gone… He knew in his bones that his mate had sought out the noble man who had offered help. The Beta would take her in, tend her, comfort her, touch her. The very idea another might hold her… act as a surrogate… infuriated him.

Gnashing his teeth, Shepherd swore. The Beta would die screaming.

Had Shepherd not purred, growled, stroked, followed every instinct to rouse her back from her stupor? He’d even tried to explain. Him! The Alpha, the strongest who was never questioned, had tried to reason with an Omega. But she had not even blinked.

She’d slipped so far out of his grasp.

It was her vocation to stay, to be devoted, to love him, to obey. Had he not seen to her needs? Had he not given her nice dresses and the best food? Had he not spent hours simply petting the girl until she was completely content? What was one unpleasant situation compared to that?

Had he not saved her life in more ways than one?