Beta Thomas crouches beside me, something thin and sharp in his hand.
"It doesn't matter, Emery. You are the reason she stepped inside that filthy place. You still don't understand, do you? Zara is my precious daughter. You should've stopped her. You should've begged her if that's what it took.
Instead, you did nothing. When it comes to you and Zara, you're not even worthy enough to lick the bottom of her shoe. My child was traumatized because of you. She had to deal with all sorts of human police matters. All because you couldn't bear to have some soup thrown on you? If you can't do your job, then quit and starve."
As soon as he finishes his sentence, he lifts his arm and thrusts something into the palm of my right hand. A high-pitched scream is torn from my lips.
He has stabbed me with something.
My vision is bloody, I don't understand what it is at first. I'm barely able to think past the pain, and then I see the letter opener sticking out of my hand.
Nausea washes over me.
Thomas shoves me away from him, gets up, and dusts off his suit.
I clutch my wrist, trembling and staring down at my hand, only looking up when he makes a clucking sound. "Give me that letter opener."
Sometimes I wonder if it would have been easier if I had just been killed when my parents left me at the pack orphanage. Or did they want me to survive and suffer for having been born?
"I don't have all day!" the beta snaps, and I cringe.
Wrapping my left hand around the letter opener, I press my lips together and yank it out.
My teeth sink into my tongue as I try to distract myself from this vicious pain. I manage to get to my feet, and I walk over to the desk.
Just as I'm about to place the sharp object on it, Thomas shakes his head.
"Throw it in the trash there. It's got your dirty blood on it."
My body grows cold.
There are times when I'm convinced I've grown numb to the insults, the taunts, and the constant degradation.
But in moments like this, I feel like a child, all alone and vulnerable, with the world hurling sticks and stones at me.
I throw away the letter opener and turn to leave. My steps are uneven, my vision half obscured by the blood in my eyes.
I step out of the office and decide I'll have to go see a healer. If Mary is available, she will patch me up. Otherwise, I'll have to get some gauze and disinfectant from the local human pharmacy.
It's June, and it's sweltering hot, even in the evening. Despite the sweat streaming down my nape, I wish I had a jacket or something to conceal my badly injured face from the gawking shifters.
It sucks that shifters prefer living in close proximity to each other. Each time I get a beating, it's public knowledge.
While there are always a few sympathetic faces, most of my pack feels that my humiliation is well-deserved. I don't know what they expect me to do. Kill myself?
It hasn't come to that yet.
Since my kind prefers to reside close together, it means I run into pack members everywhere I go. I am fortunate in one regard, which is that my job and my apartment are both located outside the pack's inner territory.
They might have considered this a punishment, but to me, it's nothing short of a relief. I don't mind living among humans. They're kinder to me than my own people.
The Wolf Kingdom existed long before the humans populated our land. But unlike our kind, humans multiply like rabbits, and over time, we had to concede to human rule, and the Wolf Kingdom faded into obscurity.
Soon enough, the humans forgot about our kind, relegating us to their myths and legends.
However, the Wolf Kingdom had simply withdrawn into the background, never letting go of its reins. With multiple packs under its vast umbrella, it controls the economy, entertainment, and politics.
We may be hidden from the human eye, but we are still very much in control.
My people take pride in this, but I don't. What use is it being all powerful when they can't even treat one of their own with basic decency?
I try to call Mary, one of my few friends in the pack, but she doesn't pick up. I send her a message, and when there is no response, I realize I may have to go to the healing center. I let out a quiet groan.
I make my way to the edge of the territory, where there will be fewer people around.
Weaving through the trees, I try to stay out of sight of the few shifters moving about. My hand hurts, and when I look down at it, I can tell that the wound is not healing. Instead, I see the beginnings of infection.
Shifters have fast healing, but that's only one side of the coin. If we get an infection, that also progresses quickly. It has something to do with our immune systems.
I need to see Mary right away. She's the only one who can help me.
If I go to the healing center, they're going to give me a tough time. They'll treat me because they have no choice, but the way they'll move around me, touching me gingerly as if I carry some sort of special cooties, is too disheartening right now.
And the last thing I need at the moment is more harsh words thrown at me.
I check my phone, but there's still no response from Mary. My heart sinks as I look at my infected hand. What do I do? Should I just go to the human pharmacy and get some bandages and something to disinfect the wound with?
My head is lowered as I walk, so I don't see the person hurrying in my direction until I bump into him.
The man is built like a tank, and while he doesn't budge, I fall on my butt.
For a moment, I don't know what hit me. Groaning, I curl on my side, my body wracked with pain. I couldn't have hit a person; that had to have been a brick wall.
"Are you alright?" It's a man's voice.
As he leans closer, I catch his scent, and I feel a strange, unknown sensation within me.
Despite what I feel for certain is a broken rib, I crack an eye open and come face to face with a dark-haired man with light green eyes.
He's looking straight at me, and I stare up at him. "Are you real?"
He blinks. "What?"
Maybe I hit my head too hard. That would make sense. I'm seeing things.
Because that's not a man; that's an angel. His face looks like it's been sculpted by the Gods with painstaking care. All those sharp angles and beautiful curls.
Dazed, I continue to look at him. "You're pretty. You're very pretty."
His face turns red, and he coughs, "You must have hit your head pretty hard." He takes my hands and helps me to my feet. As he steadies me, I realize that this is not some dream.
Flustered, I try to move away, but my head is spinning. He grabs me by my upper arms. "Woah, there."
When he gets a closer look at my face, his expression changes. "What happened to you? Were you attacked?"
His question has me falling back to Earth, the haze giving way to stark reality.
A shifter.
He's a wolf shifter, like me. But he's not from my pack.
I push him away. "I'm fine. Sorry. I must've hit my head."
I try to move past him, but he stops me. "Let me take you to a healer."
Those green eyes are filled with concern. He's looking at me as if I matter, as if my pain matters.
My lips start to move, and then I press them together. I don't want to see same disgust in his eyes as I've seen in the eyes of others of my kind. I don't think I'll be able to bear it right now.
However, he doesn't let me go. His hand wraps around my wrist, and he frowns. "Somebody hurt you. Do you need help?"
Before I can say anything, his eyes move lower. "Your hand. It's infected. You need to see a healer immediately." He takes a cloth from his pocket and ties it around my palm. "This will stave off the infection till we get to the healer."
My breath is stuck in my throat as I watch him carefully wrap the cloth around my palm and tie it securely, his forehead creased in concentration. My heart is beating incredibly fast.
This man is handsome, but not in the rough, rugged way most shifters are.
His is a kind of ethereal beauty. As his fingers graze my palm, his touch gives me a burst of euphoria. I've never reacted like this to any male before, and it's overwhelming.
He looks into my eyes as he says, "You need to report this attack on you."
I part my lips, about to say something I know I'll regret. And then something occurs to me.
I don't know this man, but I do know that when he finds out I don't have a wolf spirit, the concern and worry in his beautiful eyes will be replaced by disdain and coldness.
I back away from him. "I'm fine. Really." Reality is crashing down around me.
He tries to stop me, but I begin hobbling away, feeling like my heart will burst.
He calls out after me, but I break into a run.
I can't handle his kindness. I just can't.
My heart is too tired. So very tired.