Page 5 of Grin and Bear It

“Enchanted Falls makes those werewolves look like antisocial hermits. Monthly festivals, weekly town gatherings, daily gossip exchange—everyone knows everyone’s business, down to what color socks the mayor wore on Tuesday.”

Thora grimaced. “Sounds like my personal hell.”

“Exactly.” Trish’s voice turned serious. “You’ll stick out like a sore thumb there, Thora. Your whole lone wolf—or should I say lone cat?—routine won’t fly. These people practically have ‘community’ tattooed on their foreheads.”

“I’m not there to make friends,” Thora countered, climbing the external stairs to her second-floor room. “In and out, grab the target, collect the bounty.”

“Uh-huh.” Trish’s skepticism could have peeled paint. “Twenty bucks says you end up in some kind of magical mishap within twenty-four hours of arriving.”

“Forty says I don’t.”

“Deal.” A pause. “But seriously, Thora. Enchanted Falls isn’t like your usual hunting grounds. The magic there is old, and they protect their own. Whatever you’re tracking, they won’t give it up without a fight.”

“I’ve handled magic before.”

“Not like this, you haven’t. Just... be careful, okay? And call me if things get weird. Weirder than usual, I mean.”

After ending the call, Thora unlocked her motel room door and stepped inside. The space was spartan—a bed with sheets that had seen better days, a chipped laminate dresser, a small table with a single chair. Nothing personal adorned the walls or surfaces; she’d learned long ago not to leave traces.

She set her phone on the nightstand and began the process of shedding her work persona. First, the weapons—each cleaned and secured in its proper place. Then her jacket hung carefully on the back of the door. Finally, she pulled the elastic from her hair, letting the dark brown waves fall around her shoulders.

A ping from her phone signaled an incoming email. The promised information from Clemmins, no doubt. She’d review it after a shower.

In the cramped bathroom, Thora caught sight of herself in the mirror and paused. A few stubborn feathers still clung to her hair, making her look almost comical—the feared bounty hunter, defeated by pigeons. She plucked them out one by one, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips.

“What a day,” she murmured to her reflection.

Twenty minutes later, freshly showered and dressed in worn sweatpants and a faded T-shirt, Thora settled on the bed with her laptop. The email from Clemmins contained disappointinglylittle concrete information—a blurry photo that could have been anyone, vague descriptions of magical signatures, and a list of known sightings around Enchanted Falls.

“Not much to go on,” she muttered, downloading the information to her secure drive.

From under the mattress, she retrieved a worn leather-bound notebook—the only personal item she allowed herself to keep. Inside were notes from previous hunts, sketches of targets, and occasionally, when the silence of her solitary existence grew too heavy, her own thoughts.

She flipped to a clean page and began jotting down what she knew about Enchanted Falls and the possible challenges ahead. Planning, preparation, contingencies—these were her rituals, as much a part of her as her sabertooth shifting ability.

As she wrote, her mind drifted to Trish’s warnings. The close-knit community, the old magic, the protectiveness of locals toward their own. Everything about Enchanted Falls represented what Thora had spent a lifetime avoiding—connection, belonging, the messiness of human (and non-human) relationships.

She moved to the window, gazing out at the Silver Ridge skyline. City lights glittered against the night sky, countless lives playing out in anonymous proximity. Here, she could fade into the background, move unnoticed, unattached. Cities offered the perfect blend of humanity and solitude—people everywhere, but no one who truly saw you.

Enchanted Falls would be different. In a town that small with a community that interconnected, invisibility would be impossible. She’d be observed, discussed, possibly even welcomed—a prospect almost more unsettling than outright hostility.

“Just another job,” she reminded herself, returning to her notebook. “Find the target, collect the bounty, leave town.”

Simple. Straightforward. Uncomplicated.

So why did it feel like she was missing something important?

Thora closed the notebook and slid it back into its hiding place. Tomorrow, she would drive to Enchanted Falls and begin the hunt. Whatever awaited her there—magical complications, nosy locals, community potlucks—she would handle it with the same precision and detachment she brought to every job.

SIX

Morning light spilled across Enchanted Falls, gilding the mist that perpetually shrouded the town’s namesake waterfall. In the heart of the business district, sunbeams struck the gleaming glass facade of Maxen Enterprises headquarters, transforming the twenty-story building into a beacon of prosperity amid the otherwise quaint township.

Artair Maxen eased his charcoal-black Aston Martin into his reserved parking space, a subtle frown creasing his brow as he spotted a small dent on the rear bumper of his CFO’s Mercedes. Parking lot damage—trivial in the grand scheme of his corporate empire, yet bothersome in its carelessness. He made a mental note to have security review the surveillance footage. Such minor infractions often betrayed larger issues of negligence.

As he stepped out of his vehicle, the familiar weight of responsibility settled across his broad shoulders. The tailored navy suit he wore—hand-stitched by a wolf shifter tailor whose family had served the Maxens for generations—concealed the powerful build beneath. No hint of the bear that slumbered within his human form showed in his meticulously groomedappearance, save perhaps for the unusual breadth of his shoulders and the dark intensity of his gaze.

“Morning, Mr. Maxen,” Charlie greeted from his post at the main entrance. The doorman—a badger shifter well into his sixties—stood a little straighter as Artair approached. “Beautiful day, sir.”

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