Page 21 of Rescued By the Beast
But where is my mobile phone?
I look around, trying to remember. Then my eyes fall on the pile of clothes lying near the vomit and milk in the kitchen. With a leap, I approach, rummaging through the clothes until I find my mobile phone in the pocket of the trousers I wore the night before.
I grab the device with my teeth and, with difficulty, carry it to the mattress. I place it there, screen facing up, and try to use my paw to unlock it. The first attempt is a disaster, but I try carefully and finally it works.
I take a deep breath and press the call icon. The contact list appears, but the names are too small and too close together for me to click on them. My heart sinks when I accidentally call Lucyduring one of my failed attempts, but I manage to cancel the call on the first ring.
Damn it!
I look at the clock in the corner of the screen. It's already past four in the afternoon. The physical and mental exhaustion from the previous night knocked me out, and I slept longer than usual. I could wait until Luther showed up to give me a lift, if my stomach weren't twisting with hunger and the weakness weren't so overwhelming.
I need to eat. I need help. I need to get back to normal.
My mobile phone starts to vibrate, and my heart leaps with hope.
Luther!
But it's not Luther. It's Lucy.
The screen displays a video call, and the sight of her name makes my chest ache. A cry escapes me. Lucy doesn't know who I really am.
She has no idea that I'm a shapeshifter, that I'm different.
I never told her because I couldn't bear to lose her. I didn't want her to see me as a freak, the way my parents did.
The call ends, leaving me staring at the dark screen.
What do I do now?
My gaze returns to the partially open window.
Without hesitation, I jump off the mattress and run to the window. I won't just stand here waiting. I'm going to find him at his house.
Chapter 7
Mark
My eyes burn as I analyse the pile of CVs in front of me. It seems endless, each sheet carrying a face, a power, a chance or a disappointment.
Hiring sentinels has never been a simple task, but now, with the significant increase in monster sightings, the pressure has reached its limit. The mayor, who, although human, knows the underworld, understood the gravity of the situation and, with a little help from Viklaus, approved the budget.
I am the CEO of a comprehensive private security company. My team handles everything: alarms, cameras, event protection, close protection... but mainly the elimination of monsters that cross the boundaries of the human world and the control of supernatural beings who break the code of conduct and put people and the city at risk.
Although I oversee the entire company, I like to be on the front line, doing the part of the job that really requires brute force and skills that only I can offer. My feral side never rests. It's a primal instinct that pulses beneath my skin, always lurking, always ready. And as much as I try to ignore it, I know it's only a matter of time before the beast in me needs to be unleashed.
I would like to be out there right now, prowling the city, hunting, but the bureaucratic work is just as important.
The papers slide under my fingers as I review the combat tests and skill reports of the candidates.
Another name, another eliminated.
Persuasion. A useful power on certain occasions, but not for what we need right now. We already have enough mind controllers on the team to handle information that cannot reach human ears.
Furthermore, the candidate failed the practical test again, demonstrating a lack of strength and skill in the combat field. I cannot afford to fill vacancies with mediocre potential. To make matters worse, this is the second attempt by this cambion[2] to join us, and nothing has changed: he continues to fail the ethics test. It must be his dual nature, inherited from his demonic lineage, that causes him to constantly oscillate between good and evil.
I take a deep breath and toss the CV aside, picking up the next one from the pile. Before I can start reading, a sharp knock echoes on the door.
"Come in," I say, without taking my eyes off the paper.
