Page 111 of Bitten Shifter

How could anyone choose this woman over my mate? Someone so weak. My eyes narrow as I glance at Paul. A fool. Only a fool.

Behind me, Barry—Lark’s solicitor—enters, juggling his files with a slight smile. Lark’s sad eyes flick to mine for a brief moment, her composure unwavering despite the stench of desperation wafting from the two across the table.

I’m sorry, little mate. This farce of a meeting will be over soon.

Barry speaks first, cutting through the brittle hush. “Apologies for the delay. I had to complete some additional revisions pertaining to this case.” He sits beside Lark and offers her a kind smile, lowering his voice so the humans won’t overhear. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m managing,” she replies softly, her silver eyes drifting to the sensory band on her wrist.

“Good to see you have got a band. That’ll help immensely,” Barry says, patting his files. “Let’s get this done quickly.”

I move to the head of the table and pour myself a glass of water, taking my time. I allow the silence to drag on, long enough to unsettle them, then fix my gaze on the Fool.

“Mr Emerson.”

Paul responds immediately, slamming his hand on the table. “Who the hell are you?” he demands. His whiny voice slices through the tension and puts my bodyguards on edge.

I’m unimpressed.

Ignoring his outburst, I open the top folder, skimming its contents. “What can I do for you, Mr Emerson?”

He hits the table again. “I’m here to get my wife!”

I tilt my head. “Are you now? Did you lose her?”

I know what you did, you pathetic little man. And if you slam your hand once more, I will rip your arm off.

“Don’t play games, you filthy beast,” he snarls, leaning forward as if proximity might intimidate me. “I told you on the phone—we had a disagreement, and now she’s taken a job with the Ministry. I want to talk to her. I want her to come home. Whatever contract she has with you animals is null and void. She’s human. She doesn’t belong here.”

My stare does not waver. “Mrs Emerson is an adult and perfectly capable of making her own decisions. Can you tell me why she left?”

Paul’s face darkens. “That’s none of your business.”

I shift my focus to Lark. “But I’d like to know.”

Before the Fool can retort, Dove jumps in, her voice sickly sweet. “It was just a little misunderstanding. A tiny quarrel, nothing major.”

I raise a brow in disbelief. “A small misunderstanding? She moved to an entirely different sector to get away from her husband. That’s quite the disagreement. And you are?”

“I’m her sister, Dove,” she says, flashing a practised smile that’s too eager, too contrived. She is desperate for attention. “We have been so worried about her. She’s not well, you see. It runs in the family—onherfather’s side.”

Lark’s father’s side, right… “That sounds serious.”

“It is,” Dove confides, as though imparting some dreadful secret. Her little act is pitiful.

Standing at the back of the room, Riker remains the picture of professional detachment—except for the finger he sticks in his mouth as he pretends to gag. Subtle as ever, my second-in-command and best friend. At least someone else appreciates how absurd this all is.

He gets it.

Paul changes tack, his tone becoming plaintive. “Look, I love my wife. I’d never hurt her intentionally. This whole divorce thing is ridiculous. She can’t just leave me!”

He calls what he did to herlove. The Fool is seething. Lark leaving him has not just bruised his pride—it’s shattered it. His fragile ego lies in ruins, and it’s clear he has no idea how to handle the fallout.

Without her, he is left with nothing.

Only now, in the wreckage of her absence, does he grasp the magnitude of what he’s done—what he has lost. The best thing that could have ever happened to him has slipped through his fingers, all because of his selfishness.

I’ve had enough of his lies and excuses. Lark is mine. The audacity—coming here together, unwashed and stinking of each other, is beyond galling. “You both reek of each other. Do you and Mrs Emerson have an open relationship?”

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