2. Maeve
2
MAEVE
“ W e’ve got a new person starting today,” my boss says from the doorway of my safe haven. Her words shatter the fragile peace I had.
I got nearly a year to try and fix myself before Adrian implemented the rule that I must be employed. I can’t just sit around and waste my life away, and for the most part, I’ve not hated every job I’ve had.
Some of them have been good for me, giving me a break from the thoughts that race through my brain, until someone had to ruin it.
Whether it was a colleague who couldn’t understand that I needed space.
Or a boss who thought they’d be the ones to fix my attitude.
But this one has been my ultimate favourite. I’ve worked at the Tribunal Archives for the last eight months, and I’ve really, truly loved what I do here. I’m left alone for the most part, as there’s very few people who have access to this area, and nobody ever works when I do.
The scent of old paper and ink soothes my frayed nerves as I carefully translate documents. It’s my job to update them on the system, and it’s so helpful in allowing me to collect lots of juicy information on treaties, allies, and escape plans. It’s the best job, and the perfect place for me to be.
It gets Adrian off my case because I’m an amazing employee and also keeps me safe from his prying eyes and overbearing nature.
“Really, Glenda?” I ask, turning to raise an eyebrow at the fish shifter. She’s technically classed as a mythical shifter but is one of the weakest, smallest, and most pointless creatures to exist.
Much like her personality.
But her presence is a constant reminder that even here, without very much oversight, is still a spy for the good old leader of the Tribunal.
She’s got a short bob that frames her face, with a long fringe that comes to her eyebrows. It’s dyed a bright blonde, rather than her usual dirty blonde that you occasionally see at her roots, although, even dyed, it’s a couple shades yellower than mine.
Glenda’s wearing a gorgeous grey skirt that clings to her frame, but of course, it’s something I could never wear for myself without causing an extreme anxiety attack. Sigh.
The pale blue blouse matches her eyes, and the professional attire is just another way she rubs it in: how much I don’t fit in here.
My boss and I have very limited interactions, but they’re never good. She’s a dick and really thrives on making me uncomfortable. Glenda has informed me on multiple occasions that the only reason I am employed here is because Adrian has forced it.
I couldn’t give a fuck. I thrive the best when my presence is unwanted.
“Yes,” she says. If her nose was the same size as her snooty voice, I’d trip over it. “Are you okay if I bring him in here to show him around at one o’clock?”
“Why would you want to show him around here?” I ask, confused.
Not only are archives very limited, but I work in the most classified part of them. Only seven people in the entire world have permission to see the documents that I do.
Me being the most important one of them.
No matter how much I hate the mythical shifter compound where I live, the library is one of the best places to ever exist. The people are awful, the climate is constantly too warm, and there’s too much draining energy with so many powerful shifters in the area.
But the library is my safe haven from all of that.
And I don’t want anyone ruining it.
But this man surely won’t have the clearance to know what I’m doing or be involved with any of the work I do here, so what’s the point in letting him see more than the door?
If Glenda wants to introduce him to me, that’s an even bigger waste of both of their time because I’d rather set him on fire than ever interact. All I’ll ever show him is the door, and hopefully, it’ll be with his fingers in the way. I want nothing to do with him.
“He’ll be working in here with you, Maeve,” Glenda says the words slowly, emphasising them as if I’m stupid.
I burst into laughter, but it feels hollow. The thought of sharing this space fills me with dread.
I flick a tear from my eye, smirking at her. “Ha, good one.”
But she doesn’t laugh with me. Instead, her fake lips press tightly together, looking like a botched botox job with the sourness of the look.
“Oh, okay, then I quit,” I say, sobering up. I immediately stop what I’m doing and rise to my feet.
My heart aches as I look around the room, the place that has been my refuge, for the last eight months. My legs tremble, my hands shaking at my sides, at the pang of pain this decision causes.
I slap on a smirk.
Fuck working at this shitty place. I’m better off without it.
I only do it because I have to, so it really is no skin off my nose.
I don’t even like the library.
My chromius whines at my attempted lies, at the desperate way that I’m trying to convince myself. But I ignore her. We’ll move on from this place like we have everything else, and the pain will fade.
Adrian can go fuck himself for taking yet another thing from me. Doesn’t he realise that all he’s done with yet another dictator act is give me another reason to hate him?
I don’t need the money from this place, as my legal guardian knows, but he’s forced me to endure the brief socialisation in a bid to help my chromius.
Gag .
I could absolutely do without the social aspect, and so could my chromius. She wants nothing to do with Glenda, the pathetic slumberscale minnow, with only the ability of camouflaging in the sea.
As if anyone or anything would eat a shifter.
But Adrian won’t listen to reason, and it’s easier to play the game when I am genuinely happy with the work I do here. I enjoy it. It keeps my mind busy and helps me learn about the world out there.
Between the sheltered life I lived for my childhood and the extremely caged adulthood, I have very limited real world knowledge, and fleeing this compound will let me live.
“Maeve,” she says, quietly pleading with me. “You can’t quit. This isn’t something I’m doing to punish you… this new employee is an order directly from the head of The Tribunal of the Chosen. Didn’t you get the memo?”
“I did not,” I say, glaring at her.
If what she’s saying is true, then this isn’t her fault. But she made it exactly clear whose it is.
But, alas, she’s the only one here, so she’s going to be the one to feel my ire.
Especially since I bet she left me off the email chain about the new guy on purpose just so she could be the one to tell me and rub it in. She truly loves to surprise people and spite them because she’s a poisonous cow.
“But you can’t hold me here against my will, so I’m going to leave,” I say, and she sighs as if this is a giant inconvenience to her.
I ignore the way my stomach clenches and my heart flutters at leaving because I refuse to let someone like her have power over me.
“Could you at least tough the day out?” she asks, glancing at the watch on her wrist. “I don’t want to have to report this to the Tribunal, but I will if it stops me getting into trouble.”
“Fine,” I hiss because I’d rather tell Adrian to go fuck himself in person than let her do that for me.
My legal guardian has one thing in common with Glenda—they both stick their noses where it doesn’t belong. Adrian would love nothing more than cancelling whatever busy body tasks he has on today to come and ruin my day.
He’d do his best to shame me and make me feel like the biggest inconvenience to ever exist. I wish I felt the weight of the burden, but I don’t. All I feel is hatred and anger.
Legally, I might be his responsibility, but that’s only because he fancies himself king and made it happen. If he just left me alone, then I’d be fucking golden.
Glenda nods, giving me as warm a smile as she can manage, as if this was a good little chat. “I’ll see you at one.”
And with that, I turn back around and sit down at the desk to continue transcribing this stupid document onto our system. It’s ridiculously long, a treaty outlined between The Tribunal and somebody called Atticus Phoenix, but it grants him a lot of powers and authority when it comes to our people reaching out for help to him.
It covers far too many contingencies, and whilst, sure, it might be helpful to have it outlined and easily added to our systems, it’s one that I can’t truly enjoy when my anxiety is simmering away.
Time seems to fly, though, and despite it being nearly three hours later, it seems like I blinked and Glenda is back with a man with far too large a presence.
I hate men.
This one is particularly hate-inducing because he’s got such wide, expressive, baby blue eyes. They’re big enough for me to jab with my nails, though, and permanently blind him.
You know, if he ever tries anything.
I hate touch almost as much as I hate people, but blinding a rapist wouldn’t be something I’d lose much sleep over, even if my brain would protest the act of touching someone beneath us.
“Maeve, this is—” Glenda starts, and her voice is in that fake tone she uses when she’s trying to be pleasant. It’s sickly sweet and laced with sugar, as if we can’t smell her treacherous energy from a mile-off.
“My mate,” the man cuts off, his wide eyes filled with a mix of awe and uncertainty. His British accent is unmistakable, his voice deep and resonant, a stark contrast to the chaos he brings. My chest tightens, and I feel a cold sweat forming on my palms.
Unlike the rest of the world, we don’t really have a discernible accent here on the compound. I’ve still got the colloquialisms from my English heritage, but my accent has faded. The vast majority of people here have lived here for generations, and those who haven’t lose their accent quickly.
It’s some sort of protection entity for the compound, based on the texts I’ve read. Interesting, but then again, anything is when compared with the arrogant man-child in front of me.
He’s so fucking stupid if he thinks proclaiming me as his mate would actually work.
I hate him.
I roll my eyes, looking him up and down with an assessing look, to try and gauge his worth, before immediately dismissing him. My chromius is intrigued, but I think more by the mate claim than the man himself.
He’s got black curly hair that looks messy and unkempt, and his clothes scream that he comes from money. He’s slim, with a little bit of a muscular physique, but he doesn’t set my panties on fire, so clearly, he’s a liar.
I smirk, trying to remain calm despite the fury radiating through me. “Good try.”
“You two are mates?” Glenda asks, her voice dripping with undisguised humour.
Hm, it seems she’s dropping the fake warmth in favour of gossip. That didn’t last long before her real personality showed through.
“Nope,” I say, shaking my head, my hands clenching at the thought. “Not only do I not like men, but?—”
“You’re into women?” the man interrupts, his eyes widening even more. “But I have a dick.”
I snort, despite myself. His cluelessness is almost amusing. “Your dick is my least favourite thing about you, and I already dislike you. A lot. ”
“I see,” he says, whilst clearly not seeing a single thing.
“This is Maeve,” Glenda says, eyeing us both with open curiosity. “Maeve, this is Julian Graves.”
It’s like someone’s thrown a bucket of ice cold water over me with the way everything in me settles. I clench my fists together, my nails digging into my palms, in an effort to calm myself down.
Bile burns my throat, but I refuse to lose my composure in front of Adrian’s spawn.
“Of fucking course, it is.” I sigh, spinning back around on my chair so I don’t need to look at him any more. I want to be sick.
I can’t… do this any more. My vision blurs, my breathing quickens, and a cold sweat breaks out on my forehead. I take a small breath, trying to ground myself, but the panic attack grips me tightly.
That fucking man probably put his spawn up to this just to spite me.
The man’s scent is the most obvious reason for me to believe this is all a ruse. Old paper, peppermint, and just a hint of oak. It’s not hard to predict I’d like the smell of old paper since I spend all day in a library, and my favourite tea is peppermint.
It’s predictable and embarrassing that they’d go that low just to try and trick me.
Adrian has always been a pain in my ass, but I never thought he was stupid.
“What? Does my name offend you now, too?” Julian asks, sounding amused, as if this is all just a joke to him.
I spin on my chair, resting my forearms on the armrests, trying to ground myself. Julian’s presence is a violation of my solitude, a forced intrusion into the one thing that I made mine .
Staring at him now, it’s easy to see the similarities between him and Adrian. Their shared smirk that’s haunted my nightmares for far too long.
It’s annoying as fuck but sure makes hating him easier.
“It does when your…” I trail off, trying to figure out his connection to Adrian. “Father? Uncle? Grandfather?”
I know he has no children with his current mate, but it would be amusing if he had a bastard out there. For me, probably not for him or her.
“I’m assuming you mean my uncle,” Julian mutters, crossing his arms in front of his chest. The pout on his face, combined with the sadness in his scent, makes a smirk appear on my face. He’s acting like a little boy who is realising he’s not all it.
It must be humbling.
“I must,” I say with a shrug as if it means so very little to me. “He’s a thorn in my side, and I hate him just a little bit more than I hate you.”
“Well, at least I’m not at the top of the most hated list,” he says, stepping forward with his hand outstretched. My chromius hisses in my mind as unwanted memories try to force their way into my consciousness.
He looks at me like I’m stupid when I make no move to shake his hand, and his annoyingly perfect brows raise. He doesn’t understand that touch is a currency I’ll never be able to afford.
“I don’t touch,” I say with a shrug. He frowns, wrinkles appearing in his forehead. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You don’t touch men? Or do you not touch anyone?” His tone raises in pitch.
“I don’t answer questions of men who don’t deserve it,” I reply, turning away from him to look at Glenda. “Now, you’ve brought him in, he’s got to see me and what the room looks like, so you’re welcome to leave any time now.”
My eyes sting, my throat burning, as I try my best to get rid of them both. I need this interaction to be over. I need to breathe, I need people to stop looking at me, and honestly, I need to cry.
Why couldn’t Adrian just let me have this one thing? He’s a selfish prick and hating him isn’t enough.
“I’m starting today,” Julian says, and Glenda gapes at him because, clearly, this wasn’t the plan. His eyes dart to me in a meaningful gesture, and my chromius whines in my mind.
I don’t know why she’s whining, but I don’t care enough to find out. I refuse to let him get the upper hand, so I rise to my feet.
Glenda’s eyes are lit up in glee as she continues watching this show, but Julian’s baby blues narrow as he takes my actions in.
“Well, this room is too small for two, so I’ll be on my way, and he can get himself started,” I say with a tight smile as my heart completely shatters. “After all, we don’t both need to be working at the same time, right, Glenda?”
My tone is as pointed as the death glare I give her in an effort to stay composed.
She sighs, some of the humour fading from her. “I’ll have to talk to Adrian?—”
“Oh, don’t you worry,” I say bitterly. “He knows exactly where to find me, and I have no doubt he’ll come as soon as you call.”
Like the over-controlling asshole that he is, my legal guardian is the legal owner of my house, and so as much as I do my best to lock him out, he’ll come knocking anyway.
I don’t know why he still bothers trying to connect with me, but thankfully, he’s the only one who does. I’ve effectively pushed everyone else away, or more honestly, as soon as they saw how damaged I was, they left.
It’s a lonely life living as Maeve Quinn.
But I don’t give a fuck because it’s better than letting anyone get close enough to hurt me. I’ve been there and done that with the people who are meant to protect you the most.
My birth father is dead—don’t feel bad since it was me who killed him, apparently—and my mother and stepfather are imprisoned with no chance of seeing the sun again after what they did to me.
Our extended family who weren’t imprisoned turned their backs on me the moment everything happened as if it was all my fault. This meant at seventeen years old, I was surrendered to the Tribunal of the Chosen so that they could decide my fate.
And as a mythical creature, it was very clear what that fate was going to be.
But, of course, I was spited that much further to not only be a chromius but to be the last one of my kind. I’m such a lucky girl.
Adrian didn’t back down from the mess that my case was, and once he assigned himself as my legal guardian, he started trying to fix me and mould me. At first, I let it happen, too numb from my trauma to resist.
He immediately set out on getting my inheritance—it’s nice being rich, even if the poor little rich girl is another stereotype I fit into—whilst making sure I was there to prosecute everyone who hurt me, and those in my pack, who were committing crimes.
The therapy Adrian forced me into with Dr. Jones was supposed to help me heal, help me prepare. But all he really cared about was whether I’d be mentally well enough not to embarrass him. Every session felt like a performance, and every slip-up was a failure.
When the therapy didn’t fix me the way he wanted, he moved on to making me be a productive member of his crappy little society. I’ve lost countless jobs here because people don’t understand a thing called boundaries, and I’m not going to sit back and let myself be walked all over.
Not again.
But Adrian’s still here, still forcing his way in, still adding stipulation after stipulation as he continues controlling my every single move.
Which only makes me try that much harder to push him away.
Is it too much to ask to be free?
“What’s that look on her face for?” the liar whispers to Glenda, his eyes trained on me, the same way someone would watch a feral animal.
I quite like the look. He’s afraid.
If only I had an animal to unleash, I could make the message stick so much better.
“She does this a lot. Just ignore it. She’s a little,” Glenda says, and rather than finishing her sentence by saying the word crazy, she just tilts her head and circles her index finger around her temple as she laughs.
To his credit, Julian doesn’t laugh with her. In another negative mark against him though, he snarls at her and utters, “Do not insult my mate in front of me.”
That snaps me out of my silence, and I tap my foot once against the floor, getting his attention. His blue eyes meet mine, and I hope he can see how serious I am. “If I wanted defending, I’d defend myself. Do not take it upon yourself to act as my mouthpiece.”
He nods, his jaw tight, but I don’t care if I’ve hurt his delicate little feelings. He’s here for one thing and one thing only.
I’m not going to let that happen.
I’ve already had plenty of men think they can touch me because another man says it’s okay.
But this is my body, and I vowed nobody else would ever get a say on what is done to it.
I never thought Adrian would stoop this low. He’s passively allowed one of his men to touch me and escape the consequences because, clearly, it was me who overreacted.
Because, of course, an eighteen-year-old girl telling a grown man to not touch me and that I am not interested is not technically a no, so it’s permissible.
I never thought Adrian, with all his big promises of safety and reassurances that nobody would ever cross a boundary like that in this safe compound, would let that happen and blame me.
But he did.
It should’ve been another mark against his name, but it wasn’t. It was a mark against mine.
“Enjoy my job, pretty boy. I’d have trained you if you weren’t coming and stealing it from me.” He pales, and his eyes flash pink. As if I give a fuck what mythical he’s got hidden inside of him or how my words make the horrible beast feel.
“I’ll see you all later,” I lie.
And then I skirt around the two of them, making sure not to touch a single part of them, and exit through the doorway, ignoring both their calls for me to return.
There is nothing they could offer me to continue working there. And, honestly, after this little stunt, Adrian’s got very little he can offer me to stay within the mythical compound.