Page 21 of Bitten Shifter (The Bitten Chronicles #1)
Chapter Twenty-One
Zone One is only forty minutes from Zone Two, but it feels like an entirely different world. While Zone Two is sleek and urbane, Zone One exudes military precision. It appears to be designed for training and discipline, a cross between a sprawling army camp and a reform school.
The Facility looms ahead, surrounded by a towering fence. I can only assume it’s warded. The architecture is characteristic of shifters—equal parts imposing and practical. As we approach the gates, a guard waves us to a stop and checks our identification.
Riker hands over my new gold pass, replacing the blue one I’d barely grown accustomed to. The guard examines it then regards me with sharp, assessing eyes. After a moment, he offers me a shallow bow.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alpha’s mate,” he says.
I manage a tight smile. “Thank you.” Please don’t let my eye twitch.
Riker glances back at me, smirking. I dig my knee into the back of his seat and he laughs.
The guard hands the pass back, the gate opens, and we’re waved through.
Although the familiar shifter greenery greets us as we drive in, the buildings here are starkly different. On the right is a squat structure that resembles an old gymnasium.
“That’s the barracks,” the driver announces in a tour guide tone. “That’s where everyone stays. Each person has their own bedroom and bathroom, plus a communal area if you’re feeling sociable.”
We pass the barracks and pull up in front of a mansion-like building, which contrasts sharply with the utilitarian surroundings. It’s the same building featured on the brochure—the one I’ve yet to open.
We step out of the car, and a man rushes down the steps to greet us. He beams as though I’m royalty.
“Miss Winters!” He clasps my hand in both of his, shaking it vigorously. “A pleasure to meet you! I’m Director Sullivan. I hope your stay with us will be both safe and pleasant. I heard about your attack—terribly unfortunate—and I want you to know we will take excellent care of you.”
“Thank you,” I say, resisting the urge to shake out my arm after his exuberant greeting. His enthusiasm is a little overwhelming, and his grip feels capable of detaching my arm altogether.
“We have scheduled some assessments for you later today,” Mr Sullivan continues as we climb the steps. “Just a formality, of course, to ensure nothing will interfere with your progress. It’s essential to be in the best possible frame of mind for this momentous occasion.”
Momentous occasion. Right. Because being bitten and turned into a shifter is something to celebrate.
As he chatters on, I glance back at Riker. He coughs and mumbles something under his breath. Thanks to the sensory-dampening band, I can’t catch it. I give him a questioning look and point at the band, but he only smirks again.
Mr Sullivan notices. “Ah, that band—an expensive model! Someone must care for you a great deal.”
His smile makes me want to crawl out of my skin.
“You and your bodyguard will be staying in a suite in the main building. It’s typically staff accommodation, but we?—”
“Oh no, please don’t do that,” I interrupt, horrified. “I don’t want any special privileges. I will stay in the barracks.” I gesture back toward the squat building.
Mr Sullivan looks startled. “But you’re the Alpha’s?—”
“It’s fine,” I say firmly. “I don’t want to stand out.”
The last thing I need is for everyone to assume I’m receiving preferential treatment. I’ve spent my whole life blending in, and I’m not about to start playing the privileged card now.
Mr Sullivan hesitates, clearly torn. “Well, if that’s what you want, Miss Winters…”
I glance at Riker. “Is that all right with you?”
He shrugs. “Works for me.”
“We have two available rooms,” Mr Sullivan says, regaining his composure. “They are near each other, so your bodyguard will be close by.”
I nod politely. “Thank you, Director. How long do you think I will need to stay here?” Please don’t let it be months.
“Well,” he says with a broad smile, “the full training course typically takes at least four months. Many of our trainees have been prepping for years. Most are born shifters going through their natural change, or turned candidates who’ve had extensive preparation. You, of course, are in a unique situation, so you will have additional classes to catch up.”
My heart sinks. Four months. Years of preparation . And here I am, utterly clueless. It’s as though I’ve been thrust into an advanced fighter jet programme with no idea how to fly a plane.
“A couple of weeks, perhaps. The Alpha Prime has requested that you remain here until you have learned to shift. After that, he will take you to the Capital for private tutoring.”
The edge in his tone suggests he is less than thrilled about that arrangement. Evidently, my being whisked away by Merrick chafes his professional pride.
Fantastic. I’m already making friends.