“Tarik, you’re late again.”
With a grunt, I heaved my load onto the assembly belt. “Sorry, boss. A couple of shifters got the drop on me last night. I won’t let it happen again.”
I faced him and my chest tightened. He had that look, the one that said I had screwed up for the last time. “If you didn’t pick fights in their territory after dark, you wouldn’t be having these problems. Oh, you didn’t think I knew about that? I had to ask around, but I finally got the scoop.” He muttered incoherently for several seconds as I braced for the inevitable blow. “The thing is, Tarik, you’re a troublemaker and I don’t need that in my workplace. If the wrong kind of shifters found out I let you stay on after three strikes, public discipline would be the least of our worries.”
He blew out a breath, raking salt-and-pepper hair behind his pointed Fae ears. “I can’t jeopardize my position in Nathra for you. Do you have any idea how hard it is for a Fae to climb up the corporate ladder? No, of course you don’t,” he said, shaking his head in disappointment. “Get out of here, Tarik. You’re done.”
My stomach rolled. Not again. “But, sir—”
“No. No more chances. You’re fired. I want to see you gone in five minutes or I’ll have Sully kick you out.” With that, he turned, shaking his head some more.
Bad luck. That’s all I was. All I’d ever be.
I ripped my apron off. Wadding it into a ball, I chucked the cloth as hard as I could. My bones vibrated with the need to punch the life out of something, but there was only paper. Lots and lots of paper spewing nothing but crap about Fae and praise for the animals who ran this city. Good enough. I grabbed the fifty pound stack and, with a growl, flung the whole thing in the air. Paper burst everywhere, rattling, fluttering to the cement in a disorderly heap.
A small kernel of satisfaction bloomed in my gut. I had wanted to do that for six long months. A Fae employee ground to a halt in front of me, bug-eyed and slack-jawed. I straightened, then snarled, “What are you looking at?”
“You—you’re going to get us all killed,” he stammered, staring at the mess I’d made.
The words almost knocked me over. Grisly images, ones that wouldn’t stop haunting me, rapid-fired through my brain. I struggled to keep my angry mask firmly in place. “Get out of here before I kill you myself,” I barked.
He skittered away. Loud breaths heaved from my chest. I needed to leave before I destroyed something else and Sully came after me. That guy was scary big for a Fae, but I didn’t want to fight my own kind.
I forced myself toward the exit, stomping on paper as I went. One stuck to the bottom of my bare foot and I bent to rip the sheet off. I prepared to crumple the ad when a word caught my eye: “Wanted.”
Reading further, my eyes widened. I didn’t have time to stew over the ad’s contents, though, not when someone yelled for the boss and jabbed a finger at the mess. Fisting the paper, I stalked out of the printing press.
I didn’t bother saying farewell to anyone. They wouldn’t miss me anyway because they were right. I caused destruction wherever I went. My departure was probably the highlight of their day.
Spoiled, stubborn, rotten . . .
A string of names, each worse than the last, slurred through my mind. I screamed into the silence of my apartment. My hands trembled at my sides and I clenched them into fists, ignoring the light prick of angry tears growing behind my eyes. I was nothing like the shifters in this city. The accusation stung.
His opinion doesn’t matter. At least he’s alive to have one.
Across the room my cell phone vibrated on the coffee table. Probably Nevaeh dying for an update. She could wait a few more minutes.
Shattered bits of ceramic stared up at me, mocking me from the entryway floor. I glared bitterly at the mess, then at the door. I should go after him. If any shifters saw him in his current state, they wouldn’t think twice about taking advantage and killing him. Alec wouldn’t stop them. The prick was an easy target.
I tugged on my lip ring, considering my options. If anyone saw that Fae barreling from the building, they would likely report him to Mordecai. I didn’t need my adoptive father tracing his presence back to me. But, on the upside, most shifters in my building should be at work or asleep right now. The odds were in my favor. Decent, even. That Fae, though . . .
Damnit, conscience.
He was in rough shape. Rarely did a fight get that far without my intervention, and usually this Fae held his own long enough that a stern warning would see both sides on their way. Three on one though? Even he didn’t stand much of a chance. Part of me admired his tenacity, that he didn’t just accept his lot in life as his final place.
Maybe the Fae didn’t want or ask for my help, but they needed it. And that man in particular . . . hell, he might be angry about my help, but if I didn’t save him he was going to end up in an alley, lost and forgotten.
The thought was a lead weight in my stomach.
With a sigh, I grabbed the broom from the corner and swept the mess into a dustpan. He could have a head start. I wasn’t keen to relive the last time a vase had broken across my floor—I had forgotten about the mess when I returned hours later, and was rewarded with bare feet full of tiny clear splinters. Moving the vase would mean redoing the entire apartment, but that Fae was right . . . this was a terrible spot for a vase.
The shards clinked together as I poured them in the trash can, but they were drowned out by a loud thump on the balcony. I flicked a glance at the sliding doors. The dark silhouette of a man strode forward, his body shaking as sharp scales retracted into his skin. He slid the door aside, mouth cracking into a wide grin.
“Hey, Reagan.” I didn’t like the way my name rolled on his tongue. He wagged an eyebrow.
I frowned. “Alec. What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you, of course,” Alec purred. He leaned across the kitchen counter-top, noisily biting into a stolen apple. “You look like crap, by the way.”
“You’re cheerful this morning. Do you have a purpose for this visit or are you going to”—I grimaced as my gaze flicked to his bare waist before landing back on his growing smile—“hang out?”
“Little bit of both.”
“Little bit is right,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.
Of course Alec dodged giving me a straight answer. He seemed to think no one was impervious to his alleged charms—including me. I could admit he was handsome, in that generic movie star type of way. Sun-tanned skin, toned abs covered in the best tattoo work money could buy, and bright blue eyes. The sides of his head were shaved, the dark brown hair on top long and currently ruffled, strands of which curled down onto his forehead. His beauty was superficial, though. Alec was exactly like his father, equally cruel and malicious.
“I have places to be, so . . .” I stared pointedly at the door.
“I did say I had a purpose for being here,” Alec started. “I heard some rumors and I was curious. Judging by the state of your hair, I’m assuming they’re true.”
“What’s wrong with my hair?” I reached up, patting the matted clump on top of my head. Great. Frowning, I ran my fingers through the blue and black strands, tying them back into a hairband.