Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
“My what?” The words come out as a snarl. I’m on my feet before I realise I’ve moved, squaring up to him across the desk. My temper flares like a match struck against dry tinder, and the thing inside me responds with a feral hunger.
My fists twitch. I want to punch him in his smug, beautiful, infuriating face. I want to bite him, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to.
“What do you know about my marriage?” I growl, my voice shaking with rage.
Merrick’s expression changes, watchful now, as though deciding whether I’m about to hit him or walk out. “You left your life in the Human Zone,” he says evenly. “Left your husband for a job.”
His words feel like a slap.
“I left my husband for a job?” I repeat incredulously, my voice rising with each syllable. “I. Left. My. Husband. For. A. Job? Is that what you think?”
I take a step closer, my voice razor-sharp enough to cut glass. “Let me tell you something, Mr High-and-Mighty Shifter. I left my husband because he screwed my sister. My sister. I caught them in bed together, so don’t you dare stand there and judge me. I didn’t throw away twenty-seven years of marriage for an effing job.”
I’m shaking now, fury rolling off me in waves. “If you are going to have an opinion about my life, at least bloody well have the decency to ask me first!”
The words hang in the air, heavy with tension. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I retreat until I bump into the chair behind me. Startled, I shuffle further back until my shoulders press against the shelves on the far wall.
I need to calm down.
Asking this man for help, then turning around and using my newfound strength to knock him senseless, would defeat the purpose.
Merrick rubs the back of his neck, wincing. “I apologise. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Yeah, you shouldn’t have.” My voice remains tight.
Hurt.
I inhale deeply, trying to soothe the thing inside me. The fancy magical band isn’t doing shit—she is prowling beneath the surface, feeding on my temper.
I close my eyes and wrestle with the magic within.
Before either of us can say more, a sharp bang and a hiss cut through the tense silence. The noise comes from one of Merrick’s desk drawers. He frowns, leaning down to investigate.
When he slides the drawer open, black, acrid smoke billows out.
“What on earth?” Merrick mutters, removing a smoking laptop. “It’s switched off. How?—?”
The device must be searingly hot; he juggles it from hand to hand, eyes flicking between confusion and annoyance.
Without hesitation, he stands, walks past me, and yanks open the office door. His voice booms down the corridor.
“Hannah! Can you bring me a new laptop, please?”
The rapid clicks of heels approach, followed by a quiet, hesitant reply. Merrick hands over the smouldering device without another word and shuts the door behind him.
The smell of burnt electronics lingers in the air, sharp and bitter.
I look away, biting my lip to stop myself grinning. My gaze drops to the floor, feigning innocence. I shouldn’t have done it, but at least now I know my technomancy is still working.
Merrick sinks into his chair, dragging a hand over his face with a groan. “There’s something else I need to tell you. I’ve arranged… I may have miscalculated.”
That sounds ominous.
My smugness disappears. I keep my weight pressed against the shelves, the sharp edge digging into my back, bracing me against the panic rising in my chest. Merrick’s usually stoic face is showing cracks.
What has he done?
“Merrick, what have you arranged?”
“You have an appointment today,” he continues, voice low and steady. “Your solicitor will be here in half an hour, followed shortly after by your husband.”
My knees buckle, and for a second, I think I might crumple to the floor. My fingers clamp around the shelf until my knuckles pale.
I have a creature clawing inside me, desperate to escape, and Merrick thinks adding Paul to this chaos is a good idea?
I’m hanging by a thread. Now this?
No.
“I can’t. No. I can’t.” The words tumble out in a hoarse whisper before I repeat them, louder. “I can’t, Merrick. I can’t see him. Please, please don’t make me see him. I will go to the Facility, learn how to be a shifter—then maybe, once I’m in control of myself—maybe then I can see him. But not now. Please. Not now.” My voice breaks, betraying me. “Don’t let him come here. Send him away. I don’t want to see him.”
Merrick’s jaw tightens, though his expression remains resolute. “The paperwork’s already done, and he is already in the Enterprise Zone. He’s on his way. I’m sorry, Lark. There’s nothing I can do.”
Bullshit. This is Merrick’s fault. “You interfered. You caused this to—to —what, to hurt me? To see me suffer?”
He flinches, guilt flashing in his blue eyes. “I don’t want you suffering,” he says quietly. “I don’t want to see you hurt. But this is something you have to face.”
“I know!” I snap, raking my hands over my face as if I could wipe away the despair. “Who are you to decide when? Look at me! I’m not the Lark he knew. My face, my hair—God, look at this mess. My clothes don’t fit. I had a plan. I wanted to at least look… presentable before facing him. Not like some lunatic…”
I falter, glancing at Merrick in helpless frustration. “He will freak out. He is going to freak the eff out. He’s anti-shifter. He hates shifters—he is an active member of Human First. The moment he sees me, he will lose it.”
Or maybe, in the best-case scenario, Paul won’t be able to look at me at all. Maybe he will sign the divorce papers without any more drama.
Merrick stands abruptly and strides to the door. He swings it open and shouts down the corridor. “Hannah! Bring me some scissors.”
He shuts the door again and turns back to me, his gaze gentler. “We can at least fix your hair,” he says softly. “Everything will be all right.”
All right for him, maybe.
“Why did you do this?” My voice trembles. “If it’s not out of cruelty or revenge, there must be?—”
“Because it’s something you have to deal with,” Merrick interjects, firm but almost pleading. “And now it’s more critical than ever, because it’s not just about closure or dissolving your marriage. You are a shifter, and the change still isn’t certain. You need to enter it with as few doubts as possible—no regrets, no ghosts in your past. If you don’t, it could kill you. Do you understand? The transition still isn’t guaranteed, Lark.”
Do I understand? I nod, though the truth weighs heavily on me. I understand the logic—clear but crushing. Yes, I need to settle things with him, but am I strong enough to face Paul? Am I brave enough?
As much as he deserves my anger, I know he is not dangerous. He isn’t plotting against me. Honestly, I’m more worried about myself—about losing control, saying things I can’t take back—or doing something I will regret, like going furry.
Merrick won’t let that happen. Right?
“Is that why you brought up the state of my marriage—implying I left him for a job?” I eye him suspiciously. “Have you spoken to him?”
Merrick looks at me, his face unreadable. Maybe I see guilt again; I’m not sure. I don’t know him well enough to interpret that stare.
“You are going to shove me in a room with the man who broke me, who tore my heart to shreds, and expect me to ‘deal with it’ so I can… what, turn into a monster?”
“Shifters aren’t monsters, Lark.”
“Most shifters aren’t,” I snap. “You are not a monster. But you said yourself—nobody my age has ever turned. You don’t know what I will become.”
My throat tightens as the enormity of everything presses down on me. The weight of it all seems to crush me. I’m teetering on the edge, about to splinter. This man standing across from me represents everything I don’t understand, everything I can’t control, the unknown, and now he is forcing me to face what I’ve been avoiding.
Paul.
“Couldn’t you at least have given me a couple of days? A chance to get used to this face, this body, before making me confront my soon-to-be ex-husband?”
Fate has not just come knocking—it’s kicked the door off its hinges. You can’t run from your problems. I know that. But knowing it and being ready to face them is another matter entirely.
I want to be furious. I want to scream and shout.
Instead, I breathe, forcing down the fire in my chest.
Merrick is right—I need to face this. It’s been gnawing at me for months. Maybe it’s better with no warning—less time to spiral. Less time to overthink.
Still, I can’t help but question him. What is Merrick’s job, exactly? His role puzzles me. Is he Ministry security, a pack leader, or something else? The alpha aura is unmistakable, yet the thing inside me does not defer to him. It’s… strange. What does that mean for me? Might I be an alpha? Or something else entirely?
I shove that thought away. One crisis at a time. One problem at a time. One bloody problem at a time. Let Paul sign the divorce papers, and then I will cope with the fallout later.
I take a deep breath and lift my chin.
“Okay, all right. I can do this. I need a computer with an internet connection.”
“Why?” Suspicion edges his voice.
“If you are insisting I sit in a room with him, then I’m insisting on coming armed with evidence. I need proof—ammunition for my closure.”
His brows lift slightly, but he does not speak.
“Paul’s going to deny everything. He will twist the truth, act like the wronged party, make himself out to be the victim like he always does.” Like he did to you. My hands form fists. “But this time, I will show him—every ugly, undeniable detail. I have a home video. Of him and?—”
My throat constricts. I swallow hard.
The thing inside me rumbles, a low, approving purr.