Page 13 of Raven

There it was—Malcolm's car, a whole mile off in the distance. That's what I was up against. A fricking mile.

No way around it. I had to shift.

It was quiet enough here, safer. I darted into the overgrown golf course just off to my left, sneaking down a path beside some cosy little houses. Humans lived there, sure, but they wouldn't spare me a glance. Dodging through wild shrubs and underbrush, I quickly ditched my clothes and embraced my panther.

That was better.

The golf course? Abandoned, turned into a marsh. Soaked through and utterly forgotten. Even us shifters steered clear, what with any creature that made its home there likely sipping on groundwater. Groundwater that trickled down from the chemical plant. So, yeah, none of us were touching that stuff.

As my panther, I was swift, reaching the factory far quicker and slipping in through the back.

Shifting back, I dug around an old locker for something to wear. Sure, us being naked wasn't a big deal—it's just how we were. But meeting the alpha in my birthday suit? Not exactly my idea of a good time.

I grabbed a pair of overalls, tatty but serviceable, and quickly slipped into them before hurrying up the stairs to the next floor.

Malcolm stood there, his back to me, eyes closed, in front of one of the office doors. Barefoot, adorned in nothing but a pair of black lounge pants, his broad shoulders tensed in concentration as he sifted through the rubble at his feet. Seeing him likethis always took me aback. Malcolm was our alpha—intelligent, well-dressed, the epitome of the perfect businessman, always in a suit. This casual, almost vulnerable appearance was a stark contrast to the composed figure he usually presented.

"I'm sorry I'm late," I murmured, stepping into the room.

He turned towards me, his expression unreadable, offering neither acknowledgment nor acceptance of my apology. "There is a girl staying in the basement of 103 Central Drive. I trust you will be available Monday night to escort her?" The power emanating from him was strong. Anyone foolish enough to mistake him for just a tall, slender man would be sorely mistaken. His position of power wasn't gained through mere luck or focus. In our world of shifters, power is taken, claimed. And Malcolm Davies had fought his way to the top.

I nodded, my breath still catching. "I am."

Malcolm handed me an envelope, and I took it. Inside was her ticket, a new identity, and payment for the journey. "Take her straight to Jericho. You’re not to be stopped, nor are you to speak to anyone. If they try ..."

"I know." The envelope was sealed, but having done enough of these tasks, I was familiar with its contents and their importance. I resisted the urge to ask who she was, knowing well that I wouldn't receive an answer. Malcolm needed me for this task, something he couldn't do himself, and it was imperative to keep it as discreet as possible, fulfilling his needs.

Jericho, the unofficial leader of the underground, provided sanctuary and protection to those in need. Society ruled with an iron fist, leaving anyone outside its circles vulnerable to harm. Humans offered little protection, and the Others ... well, their safety came at a price.

"She knows I'm coming for her?"

"She will. She'll be waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. The code she'll give you is on the back of that envelope. And thecode you'll give her is here." He handed me another envelope, smaller this time. It wasn’t just a code—it also contained payment. Malcolm didn't expect me to work for free, but out of respect, I didn’t open it there and then. Regardless of the amount, I’d never complain. The shelter and opportunities he provided were more than compensation enough. The money was a bonus.

As I committed the code to memory, Malcolm stepped closer and grasped my jaw—an action he had never taken before. My breath hitched; my pulse quickened. Was this a reprimand for my lateness? Yet, I remained still, understanding that any other reaction might be perceived as a challenge. And I was no match for Malcolm.

"Have you been fighting?" he asked, eyeing the bruises marking my face.

I'd forgotten about them. "It was just a scuffle at the bar. Nothing serious."

Malcolm's grip didn't loosen. He leant in, his face so close to mine that it felt as though his tiger was confronting my panther. In that moment, cats acknowledged each other—mine submitted.

"Are they dealt with?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," I replied, my voice steady.

Malcolm inhaled deeply. "They were Human."

"Just looking for trouble. It's not unusual for Humans to take swings at us," I said, attempting to sound nonchalant. But Malcolm's gaze was penetrating, his green eyes flecked with gold as he scrutinised me. It was all too easy to get lost in those eyes, to relinquish control and submit to their power.

"Panther too?" he finally released me, stepping back.

I instinctively touched my jaw, wondering if the marks from Malcolm's grip would be visible. "No, just another student. She came to the bar to get some work done."

I expected him to press further, to call out my lie, but he didn't. "Meet me tomorrow morning after your escort duty. The usual drill." He walked past me towards the door, then paused, the barefooted authority figure suddenly seeming more human, less tiger. This shift unnerved me and my panther alike.

"I understand you're young, thinking you've got the world figured out. My son is the same. At fifteen, he thinks he's thirty, believes he knows everything. What do we adults know, right?" His gaze intensified, the green of his eyes brighter. "But remember, we're always trying to protect you."

I said nothing.

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