Page 28 of Bitten Shifter

I’m too old for this shit.

But I’m also too young to die.

I might dress frumpy when I’m off the clock, but I’ve kept myself in decent shape. I’m strong enough. Besides, the thought of intruders bursting through the door and finding my bum hanging out of the ceiling spurs me on—both mortifying and potentially fatal.

Summoning every ounce of strength, I channel my inner badarse. I pull, tug, and scrape my way through the gap, softly grunting like a woman possessed. The ceiling’s metal frame tears into my stomach and thighs, sharp and unforgiving. Pain flares, but I grit my teeth and keep moving.

Almost there.

I wiggle forward, my breaths sharp and uneven. My chest burns, my arms ache, and I can already feel bruises forming. But somehow, I manage to pull myself into the ceiling.

The metal duct beneath me makes an unhappybongwith my weight, and every tiny movement draws an ominous groan from the structure. I nudge the roof tile back into place, doing my best to leave no trace. Then I flip open my phone, its weak light barely cutting through the gloom.

I squint, tracing where the vent connects to the wall. It’s boxed in tight—no way forward, no escape route. Just me, stuck in this cramped, creaking space. And, of course, no phone signal.

Fantastic.

Slamming doors, pounding footsteps, and harsh voices grow louder. They are getting closer, not even trying to be quiet. I close my eyes and pray the bleach I dumped in the sink is enough to mask my scent.

Taking a shallow breath to avoid inhaling whatever metal shavings the construction team left behind, I shift into an uncomfortable cross-legged position. My legs ache, and my ankles feel seconds away from mutiny. Rolling my shoulders, I settle in, preparing to sit still and silent for as long as it takes.

“We need to clear every room on this level.”

My breath hitches. They are below me.

“Oh, I could really do with a coffee,” one of them drawls. “Shooting Ministry staff is thirsty work.”

My stomach twists violently, a cold shudder racing down my spine. I clamp a hand over my mouth to keep my breathing quiet. There’s nothing I can do for anyone else right now. I have to stay hidden and wait this out. For once, stuffing myself into the ceiling feels like the smartest decision I’ve ever made.

“You’re a bloody lunatic,” his companion snaps. “We don’t have time for your crap. Do you think the Ministry won’t notice we have raided the building? We’re on a tight schedule, you idiot. We’re only here for the Alpha Prime’s mate.”

The Alpha Prime’s mate?My mind stumbles over the words, trying to make sense of them. Is he even mated? I had no idea. Obviously, he must be if they are attacking the building.

Not that I’d know anything about it. I’ve been neck-deep in work all day, and VIPs like that are way above my pay grade.

Their voices move farther down the corridor, and the banging and smashing restart.

I can only hope the Ministry’s people will get here soon.

Time crawls. Ten minutes, maybe more. The noises grow faint, and I begin to relax, my breathing evening out.

Until she screams.

I can’t see her, but the voice is unmistakable—high-pitched and squeaky. It has to be Sophie. Sweet, smart Sophie. She is only twenty-two, a shifter intern who barely started her placement here.

A loud bang echoes down the corridor, the sound of a door slamming open, followed by something heavy being dragged. My stomach clenches. Are they dragging her?

A dullthudfollows, and the crying woman’s voice carries upward, muffled but clear enough to make my heart race. The distinctive click of the door closing sends a chill through me, followed by a chuckle so low and vile it makes my skin crawl.

It’s the most evil sound I’ve ever heard.

“Please, please, I don’t know anything. Let me go. I’m only an intern. Please, let me go!” Sophie’s voice cracks with desperation.

I slap my hand over my mouth, choking back a gasp, and stare at the nearest ceiling tile in horror. My breath comes fast and shallow, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“Oh no, love,” the man says, his voice dripping with malice. “Youwillanswer my questions and tell me what I want to know.”

There’s a series of distinctive clicks. I picture him removing his weapons and placing them on the counter. All the while, Sophie begs and cries, her voice growing more hysterical.

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