Page 19 of Bitten Shifter

These shifters sure are a cheerful lot.

Normally, that would annoy me, but today I don’t have the energy to care. I just want out of here.

Soon enough, we’re back in the car, inching forward in another queue toward the heavily guarded road that leads through to the other side. The setup reminds me of a medieval drawbridge, with villagers nervously crossing under a raised portcullis toward a distant castle.

But beyond this wall, there are no knights—only shifters.

The guards come into view, dozens of them in slate-grey uniforms, radiating authority as they line the gates. They watch the cars roll past with unrelenting focus. Their every movement and subtle shift of stance speaks of controlled power. They are not just guards; they are predators, ready to act at the slightest provocation.

I know shifters are naturally strong, their bodies designed for combat. They already have claws, teeth, and muscles capable of tearing a person apart. Seeing them armed with military-grade rifles churns my stomach. These are the guns you see in action films, the ones capable of firing a hundred rounds a second.

It’s beyond unsettling—it’s overkill.

What really makes my skin crawl is the direction they are pointing. Every rifle faces us—towards the Human Sector—not the Enterprise Zone.

The wall’s true purpose becomes chillingly clear. It’s not just about keeping shifters in; it’s about keeping humans out. Or, I realise, perhaps the real threat lies beyond, and they have another army on the inside. A shiver crawls up my spine.

The closer we get, the more oppressive the air becomes. The more I feel the suffocating magic saturating the wall. The little hairs on my neck stand on end. That biting spell woven into the Ministry’s paperwork was unpleasant, but it’s nothing compared to whatever’s wrapped around this border.

I hiss involuntarily, my nails digging into my palms, and the big blond shifter in the front passenger seat finally turns to look at me. He smiles slowly, baring his teeth in a way that offers no comfort.

“It’s okay, Mrs Emerson,” he says, his tone almost amused. “It will only hurt a little bit.”

A little bit? Well, that’s all right if it only hurts a little bit. I roll my eyes.

Chapter Seven

The car inches forward,and I groan under my breath. Getting through the sector border is like running a gauntlet, and now I feel… strange. My gut twists, the pain intensifying until it feels as though I’m being pressed into the back seat.

No, not just pressed—squeezed. The magic wrapped around the border feels like it’s trying to force every atom of my body through the leather upholstery and into the boot.

A whimper escapes me before I clamp my lips shut, determined to endure. What is a little more pain? After all, I’ve been drowning in psychological anguish these past few days; physical pain is just another layer of punishment.

Up ahead, the air shimmers like a mirage, and the oppressive pressure vanishes as the car crosses through. I slump back, panting with relief, and wipe the sweat from my face with my jumper sleeve. My muscles ache as if I’ve just run a marathon.

I’m not sure what I was expecting—perhaps a grand archway or some glowing magical door—but instead, we’re in a tunnel. A proper tunnel. Bright lights flicker overhead as we glide along, the smooth passage seeming endless, though it’s probably only forty metres. Just as I start to relax, another shimmer of magic appears.

Oh, marvellous.

The second wave of magic hits like a sandstorm, raking across every nerve. It’s not as bad as the first, but I still tense, gritting my teeth as we emerge into a shocking brightness.

I throw an arm across my eyes, blinking furiously as they sting and water. I have no idea how the shifters are coping with their enhanced eyesight, but the driver does not miss a beat.

It takes a few seconds of rapid blinking before I can squint at my surroundings.

It’s… not what I imagined—perhaps open plains? A lion perched on a rock or a pack of wolves running wild. Instead, it’s a perfectly maintained road winding through long grass, alive with wildflowers. It’s so beautiful and pristine that I blink again, half wondering if I’m hallucinating.

So much for animalistic stereotypes.

The roads back in the Human Sector are riddled with potholes deep enough to swallow a person. But here? This tarmac is smoother than my relationship with Paul ever was.

The only hint of wildness lies in the untamed verges flanking the road, where daisies, poppies, dandelions, and other flowers I can’t name sway in the breeze.

After about forty minutes, the landscape shifts. The road bends left, and I catch my first glimpse of the Enterprise Zone.

It’s… stunning.

If someone had dropped me here blindfolded, I’d have sworn we were in one of the Vampire Sector’s fanciest boroughs.

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