Chapter 2

My journal sat on the desk in my bedroom.

Three months of entries, all crammed with notes about Theron.

I had meticulously recorded his preferences, habits, and temper.

I flipped back to the entry from three months ago.

On my twenty-fourth birthday, I finally mustered the courage to enter the Federal Shifter Registry, a place I had watched from afar for years.

After half an hour of algorithmic matching, the screen displayed Theron's name and photo.

He was a tall, lean, powerfully built wolf shifter with golden hair and blue eyes.

He was handsome, but his gaze was too cold.

But the compatibility column blazed in bold: [99%].

I chose to bring him home.

But the past three months had been nothing like what I'd imagined.

It had been a complete disaster.

Next to the journal sat a follow-up form the Registry had mailed two days ago.

I wanted to ask whether their matching algorithm was really accurate.

Could an algorithm truly find you the right mate without error?

*****

The rain outside grew heavier.

I crawled listlessly into bed, but before I could settle in, the sound of shattering ceramics came from outside my room.

I rushed out without even putting on my slippers.

Theron stood by the balcony in his black loungewear.

At his feet lay spilled soil and shattered ceramic.

My succulents lay at his feet with their green stems snapped in several places.

For the first time, real fury surged through me.

Without a word, I went back to my bedroom and yanked a box from under the bed.

I'd never wanted to open this box. If I'd had my way, I never would have.

It had come with Theron when the Registry delivered him.

It contained euthanasia drugs, a shock baton, chains, pepper spray, and everything else designed to punish a shifter.

I pulled out the discipline rod and pointed at the corner. "Kneel."

Theron stared at me darkly, as if he might lunge and tear my throat out at any second.

Thunder cracked outside.

When he didn't move, I gripped the shock baton tighter and grabbed the pepper spray, my back rigid. "Are... are you going to kneel or not?"

A low, threatening growl rumbled from his throat.

We faced each other across the coffee table. The air hung heavy, charged with danger.

Just when I thought he would attack, Theron spun around, smashed through the window, and leapt out.

We were on the seventeenth floor.

The baton slipped from my hand. I rushed to the window.

Far below, through the pouring rain, Theron limped into the treeline and vanished.

Streaks of blood glistened on the broken glass.

I ran my fingers through my hair, frustration boiling over.

Fine. Let him run.

He was the one who'd broken my things, and somehow he was the one storming off.

I started cleaning up the mess.

While picking up the broken succulents, a shard of ceramic sliced my finger.

A drop of bright red blood welled up.

I stared at the green stems scattered on the floor, and fat tears rolled down my face.

The memory took me back to the summer when I was six.

*****

It had been a day just like this: pouring rain, terrible weather.

I was lying on the big bed in my little pink bedroom upstairs, clutching a small pot with a tiny succulent inside.

It was the gift my parents had given me for my sixth birthday.

Other kids in my class got vacations or expensive presents for their birthdays.

My parents told me, "Lily, the Federation is dry most of the year. Many plants need watering, but succulents thrive in drought and endure extreme temperatures. Life is unpredictable. We hope you'll be like this plant and thrive wherever you are."

Mom smoothed the hem of my dress.

Dad ruffled my hair with his big, warm hand.

Then thunder exploded outside.

Maybe I imagined it, but buried in that thunder, I thought I heard a gunshot from downstairs.

I grabbed my succulent and crept out of the bedroom.

Heavy, deliberate footsteps were coming up the stairs.

A child's instincts are sharp. I turned and hid in the storage room at the end of the hall, tucking myself inside an old cabinet.

Moments later, through the crack in the cabinet door, I watched a figure with a gun circle the room once and leave.

I trembled, barely daring to breathe.

I stayed frozen in that position until dawn.

When I pushed the cabinet door open, my numb legs nearly gave out.

I dragged myself downstairs step by step, lost my footing near the bottom, and tumbled down the last few steps.

My knees burned. A searing pain shot through my right eye.

Something sticky pooled beneath me.

I looked down and screamed.

There was blood everywhere.

The thick stench of it filled my nose.

And there... just a few feet away... my parents lay covered in blood.

I couldn't breathe. Tears poured down my face.

All I could do was clutch that little potted succulent to my chest.

That day, I became an orphan and blind in my right eye.

And that succulent was the last thing my parents ever left me.