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“That’s good with me,” he replies, opening the door for me. “I told you, little queen, there’s no place I’d rather be.”
Looks like my plan backfired.
* * *
Not only did we buy a dress, but he made sure I had shoes, jewellery and even organised for someone to come do my make-up. When I argued—which, sadly, I didn’t do a good enough job of doing as is the theme lately—he reminded me it was a work event, so the business would cover it. He still can’t wrap his head around the fact that people’s earnings are not actually his money either.
I have absolutely no idea who his accountant is, but I guarantee he’s not going to be able to write off my outfit as a business expense. Then again, I wouldn’t really bet against him, so I’d just not argue and agree that it was needed if I was the government. I’d be a terrible government agent.
Now I’m nearly ready for tonight. My hair is done, my make-up is perfect, and even my nails are painted a midnight blue colour to match the dress. All I need to do is put the dress on, and I’m ready. I’m nervous because no matter how many times I asked—once, I only asked once—Atticus wouldn’t reveal what tonight was about. He says it’s a work event... but nobody at the office mentioned it.
I really hope this isn’t a pack event because I might lose my shit. Not in an angry way, either. No, in a major panic attack-type of way.
Is it too late to call things off?
Someone knocks at the door, and I sigh. This is probably him. I grab my iPad to check the doorbell app, but I don’t recognise who is at the door. There’s a man, short and stodgy, with a balaclava covering his face. It doesn’t instil confidence in me at all. He knocks again, and I can see the iPad starting to shake.
I dial a number I never thought I’d use first, grateful he input it into my phone.
“Hey, little wolf,” Malachi greets. “What’s up? Need helping zipping up your dress? I love that you called me and not Atticus or Micah.”
“I, um, that’s not... I really need your help.”
“I’m on the way,” he replies, his tone serious. “What’s going on?”
Another knock sounds at the door, and Malachi curses as there’s a low murmuring in the background. “Fuck. I’m going to transfer you to Micah, okay? I need to shift. I’ll be five minutes. It’s going to be okay, baby.”
“Hey, pretty girl,” Micah greets not even a second later. The forced cheeriness is barely heard over my heart palpitations. “We’re on our way, too. Atticus is driving, which is going to be hilarious. I had no idea he had the knowledge to drive himself.”
“Me neither,” I whisper, which isn’t true. Atticus has driven me on more than one occasion, but I appreciate the fact that Micah’s trying to keep me calm. There’s another knock at the door, causing me to jump. “Micah, I really don’t know who it is. I can’t... I don’t have the abilities to protect myself.”
“That’s okay, Kai’s nearly there,” Micah soothes. “Are you ready? Unless this guy turns out to be a serial killer, we’re probably still going to the event. Are you excited?”
“For a boring work event?” I whisper, my eyes not moving from the screen in front of me. “Not really.”
“See, it’s boring for the big wigs, but we get to drink champagne and have a fun time,” he replies. “We’re only forced to go because Atticus—whoa dude, slow the fuck down.”
I hear Atticus snarl, and he mutters something unintelligible.
“Kai’s here,” I say, diverting to Micah’s nickname for him, as my eyes lock in on the tiger. Without hesitation, he pounces on the man at my door. The hood flies down, and before I can tell Micah I know who he is, a shriek leaves my throat because Malachi rips out the man’s throat.He rips out the man’s throat.Micah starts yelling, but I can’t focus on his words, unable to do anything more than watch Malachi kill the man.
I called him here to help me, and he responded by murdering someone.
“Nora. Pretty girl, I need you to talk to me,” Micah pleads, his fruity voice rising in pitch with his panic. “Atticus is losing his shit, and we really need you to let us know what’s happening. Nora, please.”
I hear his words, but they’re going in one ear and out the other. I can’t focus. I can’t breathe. I’m an accomplice to murder.
As shifters, we’re perceived as being dangerous. That’s true, we can be dangerous, but humans are just as capable of doing harm. They have guns, we have claws. It’s not a matter of the species as a whole being bad, but it depends on the person themselves. Our animals are primal, but it’s up to us to control them.
We’re not bad people.
I’m not a bad person.
Malachi is.
“Open the door, Nora,” he says, after shifting back. Somehow, his silvery grey suit is still pristine, which is the only sign that he’s not rattled. The heavy breathing, the angry glare, the flickering of his eyes between amber and light blue, however, all show that he’s pissed off. “You have one chance before I rip it off the damn hinges.” The tiger within him is echoing his words with a deep growl that gives me shivers.
“Nora, baby, open the door for Mal,” Atticus says gently. I can’t move. I can’t hang up the phone. I can’t run away. I’m rooted to the spot.
