***[POV: Agoraphobic Assistant]***
Working until 8:30 at night was normal for . Coming back to my apartnt and ’working’ more was also pretty... normal. But fuck if this whole week been anything but business as usual.
"Okay, Claire. You can do this. It’s just... going outside. At night. Like a normal person and not a fucking basent troll."
I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying to convince myself that the non-work make-up wearing woman looking back wasn’t about to have a complete ltdown. My hands shook slightly as I applied another layer of lip gloss - the third ti in ten minutes.
"Get it together. Just going to et so young woman who needs help with crypto. No big deal. Totally normal Tuesday night activity for , like eight years ago."
Except the werewolf part wasn’t normal. I an, it is for now, but it’s not generally normal? How co it’s only when I’m freaking myself out that I actually worry about how batshit all of this is?
The last ti I’d willingly left Lunarizon Tower after sunset was... well, three years, two months, and sixteen days ago. Not that I was counting or anything. I have a coded line in so of my personal software that keeps track of that for .
"Hadn’t taken a look at that number in seven months..."
Squishing my cheeks and making funny faces, I checked my outfit in the full-length mirror one more ti. Dark jeans that actually fit properly and weren’t baggy, a soft gray sweater that brought out my brown eyes behind the glasses, and my favorite set of light brown ankle boots.
Casual but cute. Enough that maybe she’ll want to take pictures together. Except I can’t suggest that or Kyrie will probably be mad... and oh god now I want to ask her just to see boss lady pout that I got in a two-shot first.
Anyway, the plan was for it to be the kind of outfit that said ’helpful tech consultant’. Not ’corporate drone who lives in a glass tower’. And definitely not ’woman who’s been essentially under witness protection for three years’.
"Probably won’t even tell her my real na tonight, since I’m supposed to be keeping quiet."
The thin silver chain around my neck was my first genuine defense. A small pendant on it that was just a stylized wolf’s head that most people would assu was jewelry. And it is - but it also carried the scent of Kyrie Voss.
In so sort of little crystallized diffusion matrix marking as under Alpha protection. I’d rather not think about how R&D actually sourced those... crystals. Not that I could sll it myself.
Human noses weren’t built for that kind of subtlety. But every werewolf within range would supposedly know exactly who I belonged to-
"Belonged to. Christ, Claire, you sound like a pet. I an, that’s fine too, but at least think of Luca when you say it."
Layers of protection, one of many, that had helped keep safe for three years. Though I’d barely left the tower outside of a work need... except for daylight errands with Luca hovering nearby like an overprotective guard dog.
It’s totally his fault I’m this way now.
Damn it, I just want him to make ’mistakes’ with again.
Maybe I’ll go get drunk after eting with Citra and have him pick up...
I slipped the frequency emitters into my ears as the second deterrent. Nearly invisible once positioned correctly. Another gift from Kyrie’s paranoia and Lunarizon’s R&D departnt. If any known werewolf got too close for my liking a quick tap would disorient them.
"Long enough for to run. Or scream. Screaming is always an option. Though it’s more fun to scream for... other reasons. Luca you fucking coward!"
Yelling freely in this soundproof apartnt was one of my guilty pleasures. With that energy unleashed, I marched over to the laptop bag I’ve had sitting ready by the door since 8:37. Loaded with everything I’d need to help access whatever cryptocurrency she’d ’stumbled’ across.
The woman had been fascinating to watch through city caras and phone backups - though I really wish she’d cool it with the naked selfies. My life flashes before my eyes every ti I run into Kyrie in the morning now.
But honestly?
...I was curious as hell to et her in person. She seems understandably high strung with her situation but also like she’d be a lot of fun when she’s in her elent. Vain, but not as genuinely stuck up as the other ’bitches’ in this pack.
"And boss lady is completely gone for this chick. If Kyrie’s happy, I’m happy. Simple as fucking that, I say."
Heading for the elevator while keeping up this attempt at tension, I really tried to ignore the way my heart rate spiked in bad ways. As the floors counted down. Thirty-seven. Thirty-six. Thirty-five. Closer to the lobby... closer to going through with this.
By the ti I reached the security desk, my palms were sweating and I was all but hyperventilating. The surprised night security guard looked up from his desk - a guy whose na was absolutely blanking on even though he’s wearing a na plate.
"Evening, Ms. Thomsson. Working late on sothing?"
"Actually, no. I’m... just going out. For coffee."
His eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. Marco - I could finally settle my tunneling vision on his na - had been here for only two years. He’d literally never seen leave after dark unaccompanied.
"That’s... great! Have a good ti."
Well, that sounded like soone who was going to make a report. The automatic doors slid open with a soft whoosh - and suddenly I was standing on the sidewalk. Cool night air hit my face and made it all real.
Car exhaust, food slls, and underneath it all... werewolf territories.
I took a deep breath and started walking toward the shop I’d suggested we et at. Downtown Vossden at night was actually beautiful. At least, when you weren’t being dragged through it against your will.
To be chained up in a hidden location by a ’rival pack’. Before you knew werewolves were even real. Streetlights created pools of warm yellow light on the concrete that absolutely didn’t remind of pissing myself as those kidnappers barked and snarled in my face.
And the distant sound of laughter from a nearby bar felt almost... normal. Not like cackles of werewolves psychologically torturing the scared little human woman who had always thought her boss was just into so sort of Mafia bullshit on the side.
"See? Not so bad. Just people living their lives. Nobody’s looking for trouble."
Still, I found myself checking over my shoulder every half block. The most interesting discoveries were a young couple that passed by, holding hands and giggling about sothing. And a group of college students that loudly debated which club to hit next.
Everything was perfectly ordinary and safe as I made it to the cozy place I hadn’t been to in years. A cybercafe that stayed open until midnight and had good hardwired connections. Not so good that I’ve never gotten in from outside, but good.
Perfect enough for conducting what is sure to be illegal cryptocurrency transactions without drawing attention. A few scattered custors, soft jazz playing, the comforting sll of espresso and pastries. Like nothing has changed since I was here last.
I check in with the staff and take the key to one of the private rooms. The kind of place where you could have a quiet conversation without being overheard or overlooked. Now I just had to wait for the mysterious mate to show up.
This was it. After a week of delighted digital stalking and a few protective sches, I was finally going to et the woman who’d turned my unflappable boss into a total lovesick puppy - and see if she was as interesting in person as she was through a cara lens.
"Please don’t be crazy. Please don’t maul for slling like her. Though that would be a hilarious way for this to have all gone."
I muttered with a dark chortle.
"Jeez, Kyrie deserves soone who isn’t completely insane in her life."
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