Chapter 12 #2
Placards bob above their heads. GO HOME. DRAIG FOR DRAIG. NO MORE MAINLAND. HUMANS OUT. One of them, painted in big angry red letters, reads OUR ISLAND. OUR RULES. THIS IS NOT YOUR HOME.
My stomach drops.
What the heck?
Really?
A reporter is on the screen now; she’s wearing a suit and holding a microphone. The camera shifts so she’s framed against the mass of shifters behind her.
They’re chanting, “Humans go! Humans go!” over and over.
The reporter leans in toward the mic, voice raised to be heard over them.
“…now into its third hour, and as you can see behind me, the numbers have only grown. What started this morning as a gathering of maybe fifty shifters is now estimated at several hundred. The protesters are demanding, among other things, the immediate cessation of the Tributes program, the withdrawal of all Mainland humans from Draig soil, and a full independent inquiry into what they are calling decades of medical manipulation. Council officials have so far declined to comment. I’m going to try to speak with one of the organizers. ”
The camera swings. The reporter picks her way up the steps toward an older male shifter. He’s holding a megaphone at his side. The camera zooms in on him.
“Sir, I’m with Draig Live. Can you tell our viewers what your message is today?”
He stares at the camera, looking animated.
“Our message is simple. We want the humans out. Every last one of them. This is not their island, and it never was. For too long, we’ve been told that they’re here to help.
Now we know what they’ve been doing to us, and we want them gone.
Every last one. We want them to go back home to the Mainland, where they belong. If the Council won’t do it, we will.”
“Sir, are you calling for violence?”
“I’m calling for our island back and whatever it takes to make it happen.”
So violence, then.
What the hell?!
The camera holds on his face for a beat too long, then cuts back to the reporter, who looks shaken.
“There you have it. Strong words from one of the lead organizers. The mood here is… Well, it’s tense. We’ll continue to bring you updates as this develops. It’s clear that—”
“I told you it was insane,” the lady at the counter says.
“You weren’t wrong,” the cashier answers as she starts scanning the rest of the groceries. Nobody in the line is talking. Somebody further back clicks their tongue.
I look over at Ridge, and he is frowning heavily.
I spend almost all of my waking hours trying to keep shifters alive. I’ve dedicated my life to Draig.
I understand why they’re angry. I get it completely.
I mean, the news about the vaccinations broke wide open a week or two ago.
It’s still raw. The Mainland government did a terrible thing.
We’ve been in disbelief over the whole thing.
What happened was unforgivable. I have zero defense, but I had nothing to do with it, just like most humans on this island.
I’m willing to bet that most humans on the Mainland had no idea…
that they are still clueless about what is really going on.
“They’re right, if you ask me,” a male voice rumbles behind me. “About time somebody said it.”
I turn.
The shifter behind me is almost as big as Ridge, and he looks pissed off. I can’t blame him.
His eyes narrow on me. I turn to face forward, hoping he leaves it at that.
Please, leave it alone.
“You heard the guy,” he says. His voice is low and flat. “I’m talking to you, human. Go home. Pack your bags and go. You’re not welcome here.”
I feel myself bristle, but I tamp it down.
It’s not worth it.
It’s not.
“I’m talking to you, sweetheart. You, little human in front of me. Don’t pretend you can’t hear. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave on the first flight out of here. Do yourself a favor while you still can.”
It’s not worth it.
“Why are you ignoring me, human? I’m talking to you.” He pokes a finger at my shoulder, nudging me.
That does it.
“I’ve lived on Draig for nearly four years,” I tell him as I whip around. My voice is even, which surprises me. “This is my home. I—”
“Save it,” he cuts me off. “I don’t want your speech. I don’t want your tears. I don’t care how much you love our island. Pack your things and leave. You are not welcome. Not after what you humans did.”
“What I did? I didn’t do anything,” I say. “You don’t know a single thing about me.”
“I know you’re human and that’s enough.”
His jaw tightens, and he takes a step forward.
I take a small step back because he can squish me like a bug.
Ridge steps between us. One second, I’m staring up into the shifter’s flat eyes, the next, there’s a wall of back and shoulders blocking my view.
“Back up,” Ridge says in a rough voice that’s low.
“Are you defending her?”
“Yes, I am. Back up, now.”
“She shouldn’t be here. None of them should.”
“You’re not the one who gets to decide that.”
“This is my island,” the guy snarls.
“It isn’t your anything,” Ridge tells him.
I cannot see Ridge’s face from this angle, but I can see the other shifter’s, and whatever he sees when he looks at Ridge makes the muscle in his jaw jump.
The guy growls as he moves in closer. Ridge doesn’t move an inch.
“This is going to get ugly,” the guy says.
“I’m going to call security,” the cashier says in a small voice.
“Stop it!” another female begs.
“Enough,” Ridge says. “This stops now.”
“Like hell! You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
Ridge murmurs something so softly I can’t hear what it is. “And that’s a promise,” he finishes off by saying.
The shifter’s nostrils flare. His eyes drop from Ridge’s to the floor, then away, then back.
The shifter steps back.
“Apologize,” Ridge says.
“What?”
“To the lady. Apologize. Now!”
The shifter’s lip curls. He looks past Ridge, straight at me.
“Didn’t mean to upset you,” he mutters.
“Try that again,” Ridge says.
“I’m sorry.” Through his teeth.
“Better. Now go. Put your basket down. Leave this store. If I see you causing shit again, I will end you. Is that clear?”
The shifter stands there for one more breath, then nods, lowering his basket onto the ground. He turns and walks out of the store without another word.
The cashier is staring at us with her mouth slightly open.
Ridge turns back to me, and I realize I haven’t breathed in a while.
“Are you okay, Robyn?” he asks.
He called me Robyn.
“I’m fine.”
“Thank you.” The cashier clutches her chest for a second. “That could have turned nasty.”
The female in front of me pays and leaves.
Ridge pushes the cart forward. The cashier starts scanning, and I pay. Then he picks up the bags before I can reach for them.
We walk out together.
Ridge’s gaze still sweeps every line of sight as we go.
I’m glad for it.
I hate that I’m glad, but I am.
He loads the bags into the back of my car, then closes the hatch.
“I’ll be right behind you,” he says.
“Okay.” I nod. He steps back, and I get into my car and start it up.
I pull out of the parking spot. In my rearview, his Range Rover pulls out right behind me. Big and black and steady in my mirror. He stays a careful two-car lengths behind the whole way, at every light, every turn.
My hands on the wheel are a little warmer than they should be. My breath is a beat too quick. But underneath that, under the weird, thrumming hum of adrenaline, I feel something else. I keep looking in the rearview and seeing his headlights there, and my shoulders drop a fraction each time I do.
Maybe upgrading the hospital’s security is a very good idea.
Maybe having him assigned to me specifically is an even better one.
I don’t want to need it. I don’t want to need him.
I turn off the main road into my neighborhood, and his SUV makes the turn right behind me.
This is worse than I thought.
And I have this awful, sinking sense that the version of the island I came home to yesterday is not the one I’m waking up to tomorrow.
Everything is about to change.
I know it.