Page 69 of Bitten Shifter

Chapter Twenty-Seven

My heart poundsand adrenaline surges as they shove me into the back of the van. The interior is caged like a police transport, its metal bench cold and unyielding beneath me. Two armed men climb in, one on each side. The chatty one sits opposite me, grinning like a loon as though this is some grand victory.

Paul. Bloody Paul. It all comes back to him. He couldn’t just let me go—couldn’t accept that our marriage was finished. How do you promise to love someone forever, then hand them over to Human First like a sacrificial lamb?

Twenty-eight years.Twenty-eight years!And I meant nothing to him. The instant I stopped being human, he decided he’d rather see me dead.

My heart aches, raw and jagged. The pain slices so deep it feels like it might tear me apart. Was I so blind? Was he always this selfish, or was I simply that… amenable—easy to overlook, easy to take for granted, easy to bend?

What a mug I am.

And now here I am, trapped in this strange, fated bond with Merrick—destiny, not choice. Yet like a fool, I sacrificed myself for him.

The worst part is I’d do it again, because it felt right. The world needs more men like him. I’m not the kind of person who can stand by and watch someone die in my place. It’s not in me to look the other way, to pretend it’s not my problem.

Maybe that makes me foolish. Maybe I have some hero complex, or I’m just missing the critical component that screams naïve or lacking self-preservation. It does not matter.

The van lurches, and my body sways with the movement. My stiff arms, bound behind my back, protest with every jolt. Pain radiates through my chest and shoulders, a cruel reminder of the crash.

Please, Merrick, be okay.

Each bump ignites a new wave of agony. I can already feel the bloom of seat belt bruises forming along my torso, dark marks to match the turmoil within.

I can’t decide if I’m frightened or furious. My emotions collide, fragmenting in every direction. Fear threatens to take hold, dragging me into helplessness, into being a victim. But anger—anger is something I understand. It hones my thoughts and sharpens my focus. I inhale deeply, fuelling that fury and clinging to it like a lifeline. Fear clouds the mind, but anger? Anger keeps me alive.

Part of me wonders why they haven’t killed me yet. They could have done it on the roadside without any fuss.

“What are you waiting for?” I blurt out, my voice steady despite the roiling emotions underneath. “You want to kill me—why not do it now?”

Chatty smirks, evidently pleased with himself. “Oh, we will get there. But a dignified ending requires planning. You know how it goes—sometimes, you have to make a spectacle for the message to really sink in. Killing you isn’t only about you—it’s about sending a message. Human First needs the world to seewhat happens when humans betray their own. It will put us on the map.”

“I haven’t betrayed anyone.”

“You turned,” he spits, his grin slipping briefly. “That’s enough.”

He pulls out a roll of duct tape, rips off a strip with his teeth, and slaps it across my mouth. The adhesive stings. “I’m sick of your talking,” he mutters.

One of his companions laughs. “What is it with you people? Always wanting to defend yourselves. Always with the ‘why me?’ questions.”

They share a hearty laugh like it’s the best joke they have ever heard.

Inside, I’m coiled tight, but I keep my expression calm and cast my gaze to the floor. There’s no point in arguing. Arguing with zealots is pointless. Let them think they have won for now. I will wait for the right moment to save myself. There will be a moment, and they won’t see it coming.

Human First.I mentally snarl. I always knew they were dangerous, but I never thought they would stoop to outright murder. Then again, why wouldn’t they? Organisations fuelled by hate. Hate groups are tinderboxes—just a single spark away from an inferno. Hatred breeds violence. It’s only a matter of time before rhetoric becomes weaponry and protest becomes bloodshed.

Chatty lounges back, arms crossed. “You should’ve died with dignity when they mauled you. Now look at you—all mangled up and… one of them.” Disgust twists his features, though his gaze flicks towards my chest, lingering.

Disgust and fury churn within me, but I focus on my breathing.

The thing inside me stirs. She hates this. Her anger is raw and feral, and even with the band, I sense her scratching to get out. My mind flicks to Alice.Not yet. Please, not now.

I bow my head, pain flaring in my lower back as the van rattles on.

I might actually die here.

My thoughts flit to Paul. Was there ever a scenario where this didn’t end like this? Then Merrick crosses my mind—his fierce protection, his unwavering strength. It’s not only his impossible beauty; it’s his presence, his certainty. I should be furious with him for barging into my life, yet I’m so grateful he did.

I recall Paul’s shocked face when Merrick claimed me, Dove’s jealousy souring the air. It wasn’t the closure I’d imagined, but it was a measure of justice—a hilariously perfect mic-drop moment. And Merrick, Riker—they have both stood by me. In mere days, I’ve found more loyalty than I ever had in nearly three decades of marriage.

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