Page 25 of Bitten Shifter

When it’s my turn, I position myself as the signs instruct, resisting the temptation to probe the system with my magic. This technology feels like something straight out of a sci-fi novel. The scanner sweeps over me from head to toe, its faint hum raising goosebumps on my skin. After a pause that feels unnervingly long, the doors slide open. Relief floods me—I didn’t break anything.

Inside, the security measures are even more intense. Another set of scanners stands ready to inspect anyone leaving, ensuring nothing illicit is taken outside.

A uniformed shifter clears his throat, catching my attention.

“Please proceed,” another voice barks.

“Sorry,” I mumble, shuffling forward under his withering glare. “It’s my first day.”

He grunts, unimpressed.

The entire palaver makes me jittery, and I’m grateful I arrived early. The last thing I need is to be late on my first day.

I join a silent line of people waiting to pass through a series of glowing metal arches. Flickering runes etched into the frames send faint tingles over my skin as I walk through. It feels like static electricity—not painful, but unsettling enough to make me glance nervously at the others. No one else reacts; they all seem accustomed to it.

At the end of the line is an inner door. I press my palm against the glass panel, my fingers slick with sweat. A cold, monotone voice confirms my identity, and the door slides open with a soft hiss.

The lobby is a masterpiece of modern design. High ceilings and polished white floors—so clean they almost glow—reflect the natural light flooding through sleek glass walls. A spiral staircase of steel and glass coils elegantly up to the higher floors, while a bank of lifts sits discreetly to the left.

I resist the urge to gawk like a tourist, forcing myself to walk purposefully to the reception desk. Within minutes, a cheerful receptionist directs me to a meeting room on the fourth floor.

The room feels cavernous and sterile. A massive oak table dominates the space, surrounded by thirty chairs. Sitting alone at such a large table feels strange. The setup is minimalist: a jug of water, a glass, a dish of mints, a notepad, and a pen. I fidget, spinning the pen between my fingers as I wait.

The door creaks open, and a man with a friendly face and a slightly dishevelled suit pokes his head in.

“Ah, Mrs Emerson! Or may I call you Lark?”

“Of course.”

“Excellent! I’m Henry, one of your managers.” He steps fully into the room, closing the door behind him. “You’re the new DevOps Engineer, right?”

“Yes.”

“Brilliant.” He claps his hands together and rubs them with enthusiasm before swinging a bag from his shoulder onto the table. From it, he pulls out a laptop and begins setting it up.

“This is your induction software.” He pulls a face and gestures to the empty chairs. “Normally, we’d have a whole group of new starters going through this together, but your onboarding was fast-tracked. So, it’s just you.”

“That’s fine,” I say, ignoring the unspoken question behind his words.

He nods and starts flipping rapidly through slides. “We will skip the introductions section—no point introducing yourself to yourself, eh?” He chuckles before pushing the laptop toward me.

“The basics: bathrooms are down the hall, emergency exits are clearly marked, and the fire alarm test is every Tuesday morning. If it goes off any other day, assume it’s real and follow the flashing signs. Coffee stations are on every floor—award-winning coffee, if you can figure out how the machines work. Oh, and we have hotel-style accommodations available if you ever need to stay onsite late. The restaurant is open 24/7.”

I glance at the screen. An endless list of PowerPoint slides stares back at me.

Death by PowerPoint.This is going to be a long week.

Chapter Ten

I shovethe documents away with a huff of disgust. So much for a break. I’d thought a bit of light reading about my divorce might be a good idea. Big mistake. Now I have a stress headache pounding in the middle of my forehead.

Of course, the Ministry did background checks on me when I was hired. On my second day, they offered me the services of their legal team. Unusual, sure, but one hell of a work perk. The solicitor they assigned to me is a scary son of a beast—thorough, efficient, and ruthless.

Over the past three months, we have tackled everything, ticking off boxes and navigating the process faster than I ever thought possible. I’d been willing to give Paul the majority of our assets just to bring it to an end, but of course, it couldn’t be that simple.

It was all going so well. I signed the forms, we submitted everything, and I dared to hope it would be quick and clean.

Hope was stupid.

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