Page 79 of Bitten Shifter

Riker places the computer in front of me. “Thanks,” I mutter.

Merrick’s gaze never leaves me, a subtle intensity in his eyes, as if willing me to stay close. I swallow the lump in my throat, forcing myself to focus. There’s work to be done. I blink. “It’s my laptop.”

Of course it is.

“Yep, all your stuff’s here,” Riker says with a grin.

All my stuff? I glance at Merrick, suspicion narrowing my eyes. “So, we’re living together now?”

He smiles that soft, disarming smile and bumps his shoulder against mine—bloody touchy-feely shifter. Little touches on my neck. Sneaky kisses on my temple. Always there. Making my heart skip. Making my skin hum with electricity and my resolve dangerously pliable.

“I want my own space. My own bed,” I add quickly, even as goosebumps race up my arms. “This does not mean you get to skip out on dating me first. Fate might have spoken, but we still need to get to know each other. All the hanky-panky stuff can wait.”

“Of course,” he murmurs, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “I will court you properly.”

Court me? I bite my lip to stop the smile. Damn it, I like him. Not just because of fate, his stupid beauty, or the way he makes me feel alive. I likehim.

I focus on the laptop, logging in and pulling up a mapping programme. My magic hums at the ready. “Here.” I tap a key and send the data to the wall of monitors. The screens flicker and then display a detailed map, street views, and nearby security surveillance.

“They are in this building here,” I say, pointing. I use my magic to zoom in. “All of them, except the Magic Hunter—I can’t track him properly; it might be because he’s too far away. But therest? They are clustered together in the Human Sector. Waiting for something.”

Merrick leans forward, his jaw tight. “Planning another attack?”

“More than likely,” Riker says.

“And before you ask, no, it’s not a decoy. They are using their devices—actively. It’s real.”

Merrick growls low under his breath, the sound reverberating through the room. “This building is in the Human Sector. I will need to deal with the human police before we plan anything.” His tone turns deadly. “It will take a little… persuasion.”

Watching Merrick work is fascinating. Once I pull up all the data, he calls in the troops. The war room transforms into a hive of activity—men and women, all impeccably trained, moving with purpose and deferring to Merrick’s authority. He spends most of his time on the phone, negotiating with his contacts in the Human Sector.

The sticking point? The humans want their people present during the operation. Merrick isn’t having it. Eventually, they settle on one human observer—a compromise, but a win for him.

By the time late afternoon rolls around, the plan is set, the team ready. We grab a quick meal—which feels more like a feast, given how shifters eat—and everyone leaves to prepare. We will head out just before dark. The drive to the target—an old office building closed for renovations—will take a couple of hours.

I keep a light, magical connection on the ‘bad guys’ while Merrick’s human police contacts monitor the area.

The building has an old, active security system, but it’s a closed circuit—no internet connection. I will need to access it manually when we arrive. Merrick does not want to risk tipping them off. After how quickly they left the Shifter Sector followingmy abduction and attack, it’s clear they are jumpy and far smarter than we’d assumed.

Meanwhile, Paul is missing. They have been hunting him since I named him as the one who tipped off Human First, but he has vanished. The annulment wrecked his finances, and with the forced sale of the house, he’s been reduced to crashing at a friend’s place.

Dove, unsurprisingly, left him. She told the police it was all my fault. According to her, if I’d ‘kept hold of my husband,’ none of this would have happened.

Chapter Thirty-Three

The guest roomis at the back of Merrick’s building, next door to his apartment—close enough to feel connected yet still private. It’s breathtaking, vast and luxurious. The space must span at least twenty feet, dominated by a massive sleigh bed piled high with pillows and cushions in various shades of pink.

“He remembered my favourite colour!” I grin and hug one of the pillows.

An outfit waits neatly on the duvet, with sturdy boots on the floor beneath. I run my fingers over the fabric—black, strong, magical. I’m not sure what spells are woven into it, but there’s power here—protection, perhaps—to stop a knife or slow down a magic blast like the ones at the hotel. Now that I think about it, it feels similar to Merrick’s suits. No wonder he always looks so pristine; the magic probably self-cleans.

At least it’s not some awkward jumpsuit, either—thank God.

I have my very own fancy, badarse military outfit: combat trousers with enough pockets to stash half the war room, a form-fitting top, a lightweight jacket, thick socks, and handmade military boots. Everything is comfortable, practical, and ready for anything—even fingerless gloves are included.

I finish getting dressed, and there’s a knock at the door. It’s Hannah. “How are you settling in? Need anything?” she asks, already eyeing the mess I’ve made of my hair.

“Honestly, I need a miracle,” I admit.

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