Page 24 of Bitten Shifter (The Bitten Chronicles #1)

Chapter Twenty-Four

I shower and change, trying to shake off the lingering adrenaline. The rooms here are fine—basic, clean, and functional. They remind me of student accommodation. Not exactly cosy, but it will do. I hope Riker is comfortable in his space.

Anger churns inside me as I towel off my hair. How could I have let my guard down so easily? Never again. I need to remember that shifters don’t abide by human rules.

In the mirror, I regard the alien face staring back at me. Even with a puffy nose, swelling, and bruises blossoming beneath her eyes, she still looks exquisite.

I hate her.

Lark, a mirror can’t show your worth. It does not reflect your soul and the person you truly are inside.

She is still me. I am still me.

When I step out, Riker is leaning against the hallway wall, his damp hair curling slightly, his ever-watchful gaze sweeping the corridor.

“You all right, Rocky?” he teases.

“Yeah.” I touch my nose gingerly, wincing at the tenderness. “At least a crooked nose will add character.”

Riker’s laugh echoes along the hallway, his good mood is annoyingly infectious.

“I’d stick to not getting punched in the face again. But don’t be surprised if someone tries to rope you into another challenge. Some of these kids will be vying for dominance the moment they shift.”

“Great,” I mutter. “More idiots trying to prove themselves at my expense.”

“I suspect they will be more worried about you after today. That throw was a thing of beauty.”

I roll my eyes. “It was pure self-defence.”

We head to the mess hall, the enticing aroma of food wafting down the corridor. I take a plate of spaghetti topped with cheese chunks and add some garlic bread, while Riker piles his tray high as though he has not eaten in weeks.

“You sure that’s enough?” I tease.

“Barely,” he replies with a grin, balancing a salad bowl precariously on the edge of his tray. “This is only round one.”

We choose a table against the wall, instinctively securing a spot with a clear view of the mess. I take a tentative bite of garlic bread and glance around. Across the room, Alice’s bright laughter catches my attention. She is seated at a nearby table, animatedly chatting with a small group of trainees.

I lift a hand to wave; she spots me immediately, her grin widening as she waves back enthusiastically, her curls bouncing with the motion.

“Making friends already,” Riker says around a mouthful of food.

“She’s nice,” I reply, turning back to my plate.

“Sorry I outed you earlier.”

I wave it off. “It does not matter. The whole Facility will know by morning anyway. Besides, the terrorists at the Ministry were after the Alpha Prime’s mate—apparently me. It’s no secret if the baddies already know.”

His fork pauses mid-air. “You only just remembered this now?”

I nod. “I didn’t piece it together until earlier. I suppose that punch to the face knocked something loose.”

“You should’ve told us sooner.”

His disapproving frown throws me off. “I know,” I sigh. “It wasn’t exactly at the top of my list of priorities. I only learned about my ‘new status’ this morning. I’m still trying to wrap my head around this ‘fated mate’ nonsense. Everything seems so up in the air I doubt I will ever catch up. Riker, why would they come after me?”

He leans back, the chair creaking under his weight. “Merrick has plenty of enemies,” he begins, his tone calm but tinged with frustration. “The attack involved a motley crew—vampires, shifters, humans—a coalition of fools trying to make trouble. Don’t worry; everyone involved has been dealt with.”

I swallow, bracing myself. “The white wolf who bit me?”

“Dead,” he replies bluntly. “You will never have to worry about that bastard again. Lark, Merrick should be telling you all this.”

“I’m asking you.”

Riker hesitates before nodding. “Some people dislike how Merrick rules. They resent the separation of sectors and want to blur the lines. They don’t understand the necessity of our way of life. All they care about is power and profit. Money. They look at our land, our strength, the way Merrick runs things, and they want a piece of it. They want control.” His gaze sharpens. “And they will destroy anyone who stands in their way—Merrick, you, anyone.”

He pauses, his thoughts elsewhere. “What they don’t realise is that, as shifters, we need structure. Without control, we become dangerous—not just to others but to ourselves. You know we’re not cuddly animals. We’re powerful. A shifter who can twist a steel bar with their bare hands needs boundaries; otherwise, it’s chaos.”

I nod slowly, nibbling my garlic bread.

“We have been on the brink of extinction before, and we learned the hard way. That’s why everything is regulated now, to keep everyone—both strong and vulnerable—safe. Most of us appreciate that. We like the control, the sense of safety behind our walls. The security. But a small faction hates the restrictions. They hate needing visas to move in and out of the territory. They think Merrick’s leadership is the problem, and if he were gone, the borders would open, and we’d live freely among humans and other sectors. What they don’t get is that most of us want things to stay as they are.”

His words weigh on me, and I pick at my food, my appetite fading.

“I don’t belong,” I murmur.

The tension in Riker’s face softens. “That’s where you’re wrong. You have got more fight in you than most shifters I know. You belong here more than those clowns trying to tear it all down.”

He offers a faint smile. “Besides, if anything happened to Merrick, nothing would really change. The system wouldn’t implode. If someone dislikes it, they can leave. They can transfer out of the country. This is home, yes, but we’re not trapped. Our sector works because it’s been designed to.”

I mull over his words for a moment, then ask, “So the people who attacked the Ministry… were they trying to abduct the Alpha Prime’s mate to gain power?”

“Maybe,” he concedes. “Or perhaps they just wanted to destabilise Merrick, to break him. He’s never had a weakness before.”

A weakness. He means me .

I wince. My poor nose aches, and I reach up to touch it gingerly.

Riker studies me. “We need to get you some ice for that nose. And no, you’re not going to heal overnight. Shifters heal faster than humans, but it still takes time. Bruises might take a couple of days, a broken bone maybe a week. Shifting can speed things up, but there are risks. Sometimes bones heal improperly, and they have to be re-broken.”

I grimace. “That sounds fun.”

He shrugs, shovelling more spaghetti into his mouth. “It could be worse. Merrick’s healing is so quick that if anything sets wrong, he endures twice the pain.”

“Ouch. That must be horrible.”

I think about the Alpha Prime, and since Riker is in a talking mood, I ask, “What about this mating thing? Everyone’s acting like it’s already decided.”

Riker smirks. “You don’t like him?”

I stab at my spaghetti. “I can’t stand him. He is bossy and overbearing. He put me through hell this morning. But…” My inner voice finishes the thought. He is also infuriatingly handsome, surprisingly kind, and makes my heart race. No one’s ever fought for me like that before.

“But?” Riker prompts. When I don’t answer, he continues. “He’s also the one who risked his life to save you. When he realised you were in danger the night you were bitten, he came for you without waiting for backup.”

I sigh, dropping my fork. My fingers trace the scars twisting around my arm. “I didn’t know that. He saved my life, and I’m grateful—so grateful—but it doesn’t erase what happened. He lied to me.”

He also shielded me from both Dove and Paul.

Riker leans back, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

“I’ve no idea.” The truth is heavier than any glib reply. “It’s only been three months since my marriage fell apart.” How can I trust anyone again—let alone a man like Merrick? It’s madness. I wouldn't survive the fallout.

Riker says nothing, watching me wrestle with my thoughts.

I twist the spaghetti around my fork, my gaze drifting across the mess hall at my fellow trainees—many look to be in their early twenties—young and brimming with potential yet dealing with the same life-altering event. Some were born shifters, predestined from their first breath—while others were chosen or volunteered to be turned.

I’d expect more nerves, more hesitation. Their faces betray no fear; there’s no sign of the enormity of their situation—just grim determination and, for some, a competitive spark. Whether born or bitten, they all share the same resolve. The same confidence.

They come from different ethnic backgrounds, different upbringings, yet they are bound by that odd strand of junk DNA setting them apart from the rest of humanity. It’s unsettling. Overwhelming. They have accepted their place here long before they arrived. I haven’t. Will I ever?

I can’t quiet the little voice in my head insisting I don’t belong.

A loud crash yanks my attention to another table. Alice’s tray hits the floor, food scattering everywhere. She stares blankly ahead, her big blue eyes wide with shock, her face pale. Then, without a sound, she crumples, collapsing off her chair and hitting the ground with a sickening thud.

Her body convulses violently.

Oh my God, no.

Riker gently grips my arm, holding me back as I instinctively move to help. Shouts ripple through the room as staff rush forward. Trainees scatter—some stepping back, others frozen. A staff member clears the food debris while another carefully lays Alice flat. Someone murmurs, “She is not breathing,” and panic seizes the entire room.

“Medic!”

There is nothing I can do.

Within seconds, a medical team dashes in. One medic begins chest compressions while another readies a defibrillator. Alice’s jumper is torn open, her pale chest exposed as they attach electrodes.

“Clear!” the medic shouts, and Alice’s body jerks under the electric shock.

I clasp my hands, silently pleading for her to come back. “Don’t they have a med mage?” I whisper, unable to tear my gaze away from the frantic scene. “Please, please, Alice, breathe.”

The medics work tirelessly, shocking her repeatedly, but her small frame remains unresponsive. At last, the lead medic shakes his head and says quietly, “She is gone.”

Alice’s arm flops to the side, revealing a patch of fur on her wrist. Her hand is half-shifted, the beginnings of claws visible.

This is exactly what Merrick was afraid of. He worried this might happen.