Page 1 of Grin and Bear It

ONE

The rooftops of Silver Ridge stretched before Thora Halliwell like a concrete playground. Cooling brick beneath her palms, she perched at the edge of the tallest building downtown, amber eyes tracking the urban landscape below. Twilight painted long shadows across the aging architecture, providing perfect cover for both predator and prey.

A breeze carried the mingled scents of restaurant kitchens, exhaust fumes, and humanity. Thora inhaled deeply, filtering through the layers of ordinary smells, searching for anything unusual. Hunter’s instinct, fine-tuned through years of tracking bounties, rarely failed her.

There—a flicker of movement three buildings east. Too fast for human reflexes.

A smile curled the corner of her mouth. The idiots at the Silver Ridge Bounty Office had insisted this particular leopard shifter was impossible to catch. “Like trying to trap shadows,” the desk sergeant had warned. The same speech they gave whenever they wanted to knock a few zeros off her fee.

“And yet,” Thora murmured to the cityscape, “here you are, showing off for anyone with eyes to see.”

The male leopard shifter below paused at the edge of a sandstone facade, head turning as he surveyed possible escape routes. Even from this distance, she noted his overconfidence—the casual way he glanced over his shoulder, the unhurried grace of his movements. He thought himself invisible up here, above the everyday bustle.

Rookie mistake.

Thora eased back from her perch, slipping into the shadow of a rooftop water tower. The weight of her gear pressed against her hips—shifter-dampening cuffs, tracking devices, various tools of her trade—a comforting reminder of the barrier she maintained between herself and the world. Everything had its place, neat and contained.

Unlike her hair, which the persistent breeze seemed determined to toss into her face. She tucked a rebellious strand behind her ear and focused. The mark had moved, leaping across to the next building with unnatural grace.

Time to move.

Her boots connected with concrete in whisper-quiet steps as she crossed her own rooftop. The leather of her jacket stretched across her shoulders, supple from years of wear. At the edge, she paused, calculating the distance to the next building. A twelve-foot gap stretched between them, deadly concrete waiting three stories below.

Child’s play.

TWO

Thora backed up five paces, drew in a breath that expanded her rib cage, and sprinted forward. The edge rushed toward her, and then she was airborne, the world suspended around her. For a crystalline moment, she flew—not quite human, not quite sabertooth—something in between and beyond both.

She landed in a controlled roll that dispersed momentum through her body, coming up in a low crouch. No wasted movement, no unnecessary sound. Rising to her feet, she caught sight of her quarry again, now moving with more purpose. Had he sensed her? The subtle shift in his gait suggested as much.

“Run all you want,” she whispered. “Makes it more interesting.”

The leopard shifter darted toward a series of narrower buildings—choosing terrain that favored his slighter build. Smart, but not smart enough. Thora had chased targets through the vertical mazes of three different cities; she knew every trick in the book.

She cut across the roof diagonally, aiming to intercept rather than follow. A small smile tugged at her lips as she calculated trajectories and timing. This part—the chase, the strategy, thebattle of wits—made her blood sing. No complications, no messy emotions, no disappointments. Just predator and prey, locked in the oldest dance.

The gap between the next two buildings loomed ahead. This one narrower but deeper. The leopard shifter had already crossed it, his form briefly silhouetted against the darkening sky as he’d leaped.

Thora gathered herself and launched forward, her body twisting into a controlled somersault that carried her over the void. For a heartbeat, the city sprawled beneath her—cars like toys, people like ants, all oblivious to the hunt playing out above their heads.

An unexpected gasp floated up from below. Thora’s gaze flicked downward midair to spot a pedestrian staring up, mouth agape, phone lifted to capture her flight.

Great. Just what I need—to trend on social media.

She landed with precision, knees bending to absorb impact, fingertips grazing the rooftop for balance. A quick glance confirmed her suspicion: the gawking pedestrian stood transfixed, still recording.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Thora muttered, though the bystander couldn’t possibly hear her. “Mind your own business.”

The momentary distraction cost her. The leopard shifter had gained ground, now racing toward what appeared to be a maintenance shed near the far edge of the building. Beyond it, Thora could make out the zigzag of a fire escape—his planned exit route.

She straightened and broke into a sprint, closing the distance with powerful strides. The gap between them shrank with each second. Pride surged through her veins. Five years hunting shifters had given her an edge that even natural shape-changerscouldn’t match—the perfect blend of tactical thinking and physical prowess.

Victory within grasp, Thora accelerated for the final push.

And crashed full-speed into a structure she hadn’t noticed in her focus on the target.

Wood splintered around her. Startled squawks filled her ears as a flurry of gray-white wings exploded into the air. Feathers floated down like bizarre snowflakes as Thora stumbled through the wreckage of what had, until moments ago, been someone’s rooftop pigeon coop.

---