Page 14 of Bear Love’s Hidden Destiny (Esoterra Shifters World #3)

I leaned back in my creaky office chair, the glow of my laptop screen cutting through the dim light of my small office.

Papers were scattered across my desk, case notes mixed with old receipts and a coffee mug I hadn’t washed in days.

My life as a private investigator wasn’t the stuff of noir films, no matter how much I liked the idea of a trench coat and a cigarette.

Most of my work was mundane, tracking cheating husbands or digging up financial records for suspicious business partners.

Today, I was wrapping up a report on a guy who’d been skimming cash from his employer’s accounts.

The evidence was solid, bank statements cross-referenced with some sneaky photos I’d snapped outside his office. Another case closed, another paycheck.

The bell above my office door jingled, and I looked up to see Marcus, my part-time assistant, poking his head in.

He was a lanky college kid with a mop of curly hair and a knack for finding things online I’d never have the patience to dig up myself.

“Yo, Janelle, you still here?” he called, tossing his backpack onto the couch by the door.

“It’s almost nine. You got a hot date or something? ”

I snorted, closing my laptop. “Yeah, with a spreadsheet. You’re late, by the way. Weren’t you supposed to sort those files hours ago?”

He grinned, unapologetic, and flopped onto the couch. “Got held up at the library. Midterms are killing me. You got anything new for me, or am I just here to look pretty?”

I tossed a folder his way, and it landed with a thud on his lap. “Scan those invoices and cross-check them with the client’s payment records. I need it by tomorrow. And don’t give me that face, you’re getting paid.”

Marcus groaned but opened the folder. “You’re a slave driver, you know that? Ever think about taking a day off? Like, go get a coffee that isn’t from a gas station?”

“Coffee’s coffee,” I said, standing to stretch. My back popped, and I winced. Too many hours hunched over my desk. “Besides, days off are for people with normal jobs.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re hopeless. Oh, almost forgot, some mail came for you. Looked fancy, so I left it on the shelf by the door.”

I glanced over, spotting a thick envelope I hadn’t noticed before.

It was heavy, made of creamy paper with my name written in sharp, deliberate ink.

No return address, just a lawyer’s name and an office in Seattle.

My mother’s name, Lillian Hawkins, was typed in the corner.

My stomach tightened. Mom had been gone for years, her death a quiet blip after she’d walked out when I was a kid.

I hadn’t thought about her in forever, let alone an estate.

What could she possibly have left behind?

“You okay?” Marcus asked, his voice softer now. He was good at reading people, one of the reasons I kept him around.

“Yeah, just weird mail,” I said, forcing a shrug. “Probably nothing. Get those invoices done, alright? I’m heading out soon.”

He saluted mockingly and got to work, his fingers flying over his laptop.

I grabbed the envelope and tore it open.

A pendant slipped out, clinking onto the floor.

It was carved from dark stone, shaped like a tiger’s claw, sharp and heavy.

A handwritten note was tucked inside, the script old-fashioned and loopy.

“When the roots call, follow them. The truth sleeps beneath your skin.” No signature, no context.

I turned the note over, expecting more, but it was blank.

The pendant felt warm in my hand, heavier than it should have been.

I set it on my desk and stared, my skin prickling for no reason.

“Fancy jewelry,” Marcus said, glancing over. “You got a secret admirer or something?”

“Hardly,” I said, tucking the pendant into my pocket. “Just some weird family stuff. Don’t worry about it.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. “Alright, boss. I’m out in an hour. Don’t stay up too late, yeah?”

I waved him off, and he left me to my thoughts.

The note’s words stuck with me, nagging like a half-remembered dream.

I tried to focus on the report, but my eyes kept drifting to the pendant’s spot on my desk.

By the time I locked up the office and headed to my apartment, it was past midnight.

Sleep didn’t come easy. My body felt off, like I was running a fever without being sick.

Heat bloomed across my lower back, sharp and insistent.

I stumbled to the bathroom, flicked on the light, and twisted to check the mirror.

There, just above my hip, was a faint, glowing symbol, a clawprint, like something etched into my skin.

I touched it, expecting it to hurt, but it was smooth and warm.

My pulse raced. I hadn’t gotten a tattoo, hadn’t been anywhere near ink or needles. This wasn’t right.

I spent the next few hours on my laptop, searching for answers.

Clawprint symbols, glowing marks, anything that matched what I’d seen.

Most of the results were garbage, conspiracy blogs or people claiming they’d been marked by aliens.

But a few threads caught my attention, mentioning a place called Esoterra.

The posts were scattered, buried in folklore about a hidden realm in the Pacific Northwest, guarded by beings who could shift between human and beast. The same clawprint symbol showed up in grainy photos and sketches, described as a mark of belonging or a warning.

I rolled my eyes at first. Shapeshifters?

Hidden realms? I dealt in evidence, not myths.

But the symbol on my skin was real, and the pendant in my pocket matched the drawings too closely to dismiss.

By morning, I’d made a decision. I packed a bag, phone, charger, notebook, the pendant, a flashlight, and my .

38 revolver, just in case. The lawyer’s office in Seattle was tempting, but the note’s talk of “roots” and the pull I felt pointed elsewhere.

The folklore mentioned deep forests, untouched by people.

I mapped a route to the Cascades, where the oldest woods in the Pacific Northwest stood.

It was a long shot, but I’d followed weaker leads before.

I grabbed breakfast at a diner near my apartment, hoping to clear my head.

The waitress, a woman named Carla I’d known for years, slid a plate of pancakes in front of me.

“You look like you’re planning something big,” she said, pouring me coffee. “Got that wild look in your eyes.”

I laughed, cutting into the pancakes. “Just a road trip. Need to get out of the city for a bit.”

She raised an eyebrow, wiping her hands on her apron. “You? Leaving your cave? Be careful out there, Janelle. You’re tough, but the world’s tougher.”

“Appreciate the concern,” I said, giving her a smile. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

She shook her head and moved to the next table, muttering something about stubborn kids.

I finished eating, left a tip, and hit the road.

The drive took most of the day. City streets turned to suburbs, then to winding highways lined with evergreens.

The air grew cooler, heavier, as I climbed into the mountains.

By late afternoon, I’d parked at a trailhead that was barely marked, just a dirt path swallowed by trees.

No signs, no other cars. I slung my backpack over my shoulder, tucked the pendant into my pocket, and started hiking.

The forest was quiet, only the crunch of needles under my boots and the occasional bird call.

The deeper I went, the thicker the air felt, like it was pressing against me.

The trees seemed to close in, their branches tangling overhead, dimming the sky.

I kept checking over my shoulder, feeling eyes on me, but there was nothing but shadows.

Hours later, my legs were burning, but I couldn’t stop.

The pendant in my pocket felt warm again, almost pulsing.

I checked my phone, no signal, not that I’d expected one.

The map I’d downloaded was useless; the trail had vanished miles back.

I was going on instinct now, which wasn’t my style.

I liked plans, proof, things that added up.

But this felt like something else, like the forest was guiding me.

The light was fading when I stumbled into a clearing.

At its center stood a monolith, taller than me, its surface smooth and black, wrapped in roots that shimmered faintly, like they were lit from within.

I froze, my breath catching. The air here was heavy, charged, like the moment before a storm.

The pendant in my pocket burned against my thigh.

I stepped closer, my boots sinking into the soft earth.

The monolith hummed, a low vibration I felt in my chest. My fingers brushed the stone, and a jolt shot through me, sharp and electric.

Heat surged through my veins, and my vision blurred for a heartbeat.

Before I could pull back, something slammed into me, knocking me against a tree.

The air rushed out of my lungs. A heavy weight pinned me, one arm trapping mine above my head, the other pressing against my collarbone.

I gasped, trying to focus. Golden eyes stared down at me, sharp and wild, like a predator’s.

His face was hard, all angles, high cheekbones, dark hair falling into his eyes.

A low growl rumbled from his chest, vibrating against my neck.

His fingers tightened, and I swore his nails sharpened, curling into something too close to claws.

My heart pounded, but I didn’t scream. I’d faced worse, or at least I told myself that.

His voice was rough as gravel when he spoke close to my ear, “Tell me who sent you before I tear you apart.”

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