I arrived at the precinct with the sun slapping my face.
I hadn't slept. After finding Miller's melted badge, I left Ayla at the building — she climbed up the exterior because she said the door "smelled like a trap" — and came straight to work.
Bad idea. I was forty minutes late. Again.
I slipped into the common room trying to be invisible, glued to the wall.
"Walker!" Sergeant Kowalski's shout echoed off the walls.
I closed my eyes. Shit.
"Morning, Sergeant," I said, turning with my best innocent face.
Kowalski stood in his office doorway, red as a tomato ready to burst.
"To my office. Now."
I went in. He slammed the door so hard the glass rattled.
"Sit down."
I felt tiny in that chair. Kowalski prowled the room like a bulldog looking for something to bite.
"You're late," he growled. "You were late yesterday. Miller's been missing two weeks, we're short-staffed, the city's a mess — and what are you doing?"
"Sergeant, I had a problem with my car…"
"I don't give a damn about your car!" he screamed, spitting the words at me. "You're a good kid, Evan. But you're a mess. Miller betrayed us and ran off to Mexico with raid money. I don't need another clown here."
A knot tightened in my stomach. Miller wasn't in Mexico. He was dead. I wanted to shout it, but I kept quiet. If I spoke up, they'd lock me up.
"Sorry, Sergeant," I murmured. "It won't happen again."
"You've got a mountain of files on your desk," he said, pointing out the door. "Thefts, neighborhood complaints. I want that desk cleared before you leave. If there's a single paper left tomorrow, hand in your badge and get out."
I left his office feeling like I carried a tombstone.
I sat at my desk. The stack of folders towered half a meter high. I sighed, rubbing my temples. Everything hurt.
Suddenly I felt a cold breath at the base of my neck.
"That male smells of old blood and weakness," a voice whispered behind me.
I jumped, banging my knee.
"Jesus!"
I turned. Ayla was crouched behind my chair, hidden by the filing cabinet. She wore a low cap and an oversized, filthy maintenance jacket.
"What are you doing here?" I hissed, full panic. "I told you to stay in the apartment!"
"The apartment reeks of hunters. The black car is still out there." She looked at me with those intense eyes. "I decided to move. There are lots of armed prey here. It's safer."
"It's not safe. It's a precinct!"
She ignored my fear. She rose slightly, sniffing toward Kowalski's office.
"The alpha male has challenged you. He's shown his teeth and you bowed your head. You're weak. If you want, I can go in and rip his throat out. Then you'll be the new alpha."
"No!" I grabbed her sleeve. "Nobody rips throats here! I just… I have to finish these papers or they'll throw me out. And if they throw me out, there's no food."
Ayla looked at the tower of folders with disgust.
"Papers? The alpha punishes you with dead leaves?"
"It's bureaucracy. I have to fix people's problems."
The phone rang. Reception.
"Walker, the cat lady's here again. Come down and get her off my back."
I cursed. I looked at the pile of folders. I looked at Ayla, who was staring at a nearby officer's neck with excessive hunger.
"I have to go. Listen: hide under the desk. Don't come out. Don't kill anyone. I'll be back in ten minutes."
I ran off, praying there wouldn't be a bloodbath when I returned.
---
POV: Ayla
Evan leaves. He smells like sour sweat, like constant fear.
Pathetic. He lets himself be dominated by the fat male. But he's my camouflage. If he loses his resources, I lose my shield.
I look at the tower of papers. Evan said he had to "fix people's problems."
I pull the first folder.
Complaint: Excessive noise. Neighbor in 4B plays loud music.
Basic territorial dispute. Evan would waste hours talking. I won't.
I grab a black pen and press hard. I write across the paper in rough strokes:
NOISY PREY MUST BE SILENCED. SUGGEST MANDIBLE FRACTURE.
I toss the folder into the outgoing tray.
Next.
Complaint: Disappearance. Mrs. Higgins can't find her husband.
I sniff the page. It smells of cheap cologne and desperation. But also of booze and another female. The male isn't lost. He ran.
I write:
THE MALE ABANDONED THE NEST FOR A MORE FERTILE FEMALE. DO NOT SEARCH. NATURAL SELECTION.
I work fast. My hands fly. There's no mercy in my decisions. Only instinct.
Read. Judge. Discard.
In ten minutes, the tower is gone. I've cleared the way for my pet.
I sit in Evan's chair. It smells like him. I cross my legs on the desk, satisfied. I've protected my investment.
---
POV: Evan
The cat lady had me talking about aliens for twenty minutes. The irony almost killed me.
I ran back up the stairs. I reached my cubicle. Ayla was in my chair, boots on the desk, filing her nail with a paperclip. The stack of files had disappeared.
"What…?" I went white. "Where are the papers?"
Ayla pointed at the outgoing tray.
"The load has been eliminated."
I lunged at the tray and grabbed the first folder. In the middle of the official report, written in block letters that almost tore the paper:
THE MALE ABANDONED THE NEST FOR A MORE FERTILE FEMALE. DO NOT SEARCH.
I opened the second.
NOISY PREY MUST BE SILENCED. SUGGEST MANDIBLE FRACTURE.
I opened the third. A complaint about a dangerous dog.
THE PREDATOR IS A NUISANCE. EAT IF NECESSARY.
I felt like I was going to faint.
"Ayla…" I whispered, terrified. "What have you done?"
"I helped you," she said. "I applied the laws of nature. I solved forty conflicts in twelve minutes. You should thank me."
"You put 'eat the dog' in a police report!" I hissed. "If Kowalski sees this he'll shoot me!"
"Kowalski is an old alpha. His rules are stupid. Mine work."
I was about to scream when the phone rang.
Riiiing.
I stared at it like it was a cobra and picked it up.
"Walker?" It wasn't Kowalski. It was a woman's voice. Dry. Cold as ice.
"Yes…" I answered.
"I'm Lieutenant Harper, Internal Affairs."
The world stopped. Internal Affairs. The ones who hunt dirty cops.
I looked at Ayla. She tensed in the chair, catching the sound of the handset.
"Yes, Lieutenant?"
"We received an alert. Someone's been poking around where they shouldn't. I'm talking about yesterday's truck accident. And the woman who was with you."
Silence.
Ayla rose slowly. Her eyes locked on mine. No mockery now. Pure alertness. Pure instinct.
"What about her?" I asked, trying to sound steady.
"The facial recognition system tripped a red alert this morning," Harper said. "That woman doesn't exist. No prints, no birth record. She's a ghost. But the curious thing is… someone else is asking about her."
"Who?"
"A federal agency. Classified. They've requested your address and your file, Walker." The voice dropped to a threat. "Listen to me, rookie. If you're hiding a terrorist, you're going down. I want to see that woman in my office first thing tomorrow morning so we can identify her. Or I'll come get her. And I won't come alone."
The line clicked dead.
I put the phone down slowly. My hand shook.
I turned to Ayla. She stood, muscles taut, sniffing the precinct air as if it'd suddenly filled with toxic smoke.
"They know," I said quietly.
Ayla nodded. Her expression was grim.
"They've caught the scent. The concealment phase is over, Evan."