Page 12 of Clashing With The Grumpy Wolf

The Siren's Call appears through the rain, a weathered building of dark wood and foggy windows perched at the edge of the harbor.Even from the parking lot, I can hear raised voices coming from inside. Great. Just what I needed to cap off this shitty day.

I step from the cruiser, rain immediately soaking through my uniform. The door to the bar bangs open as I approach, disgorging a pair of gnomes who scurry past me with averted eyes.

Inside, the air hangs heavy with the scent of spilled alcohol, salt, seaweed, and the unmistakable musk of anger. The usual blue-tinted lamps cast everything in an underwater glow, illuminating a scene of chaos. Tables overturned. Glass crunching underfoot. At the center of the destruction, a female troll squares off against a merfolk, both of them heaving with rage.

Maya Lorne stands between them, hand on her holster, her posture rigid with warning. She catches sight of me and relief flashes across her face.

"Sheriff's here," she announces, voice cutting through the tension.

The merfolk, an old sailor named Olven Brackish, turns his massive frame toward me. The gills around his neck writhe with agitation, their bioluminescent tips pulsing angry red. His skin shimmers with the subtle iridescence typical of his kind, his arms flexing with barely contained rage.

Across from him, Jada Killkon draws herself up to her full seven-foot height, her gray skin flushed purple across the cheekbones. The broken chair leg in her hand looks like a toothpick against her bulk.

"Evening," I say, my voice deceptively calm as I step forward. "Someone want to tell me what's worth destroying Mira's bar over?"

The mermaid bartender-owner, Mira Loresong, looks over what's left of the bar, her blue-tinted hair still perfectly styled and her face amask of jaded boredom. She’s seen more than her fair share of drunken fights over the years and I do not envy her the position.

"This oversized squid," Jada snarls, gesturing with the chair leg, "spilled his drink on me and had the nerve to blame me for it."

Olven's gills writhe faster.

"After which this mountain troll called me a bottom-feeding ink-spitter and insulted my mother."

"Your motherisa bottom-feeder," Jada spits. "Everyone knows the Brackish clan breeds with sharks."

Maya's hand tightens on her holster as Olven lunges forward, but I step between them, hands outstretched, my fangs elongating instinctively, my fur spreading across my exposed skin in warning that my wolf is right there, below the surface. Ready to intervene.

Both creatures falter, their instincts recognizing the predator even if their alcohol-soaked brains don't.

"That's enough," I say, not raising my voice. I don't need to. "Jada, think about your mother. What would she say if she had to bail you out of jail again?"

Jada's grip on the chair leg loosens slightly, uncertainty crossing her features.

"He started it."

"I don't care who started it. I'm finishing it." I turn to Olven. "And you. Your father works for Harbormaster Fenmoor. Would he appreciate a call about his son brawling like a juvenile delinquent?"

Something sizzles in the air as I speak, the subtle current of power that comes with being a future alpha. Both drunkards respond to it instinctively, their postures softening by degrees.

Then Jada ruins everything.

“More like an octopussy.” She snickers, proud of her jest.

From the corner of my eye, I catch movement. Olven's right arm curls into a fist, muscles tensing for a strike. Without looking, I reach out and catch his wrist mid-swing, stopping it cold.

"Don't," I warn quietly, finally meeting his gaze. I let my eyes flash emerald green, a glimpse of the wolf beneath my skin. The next moment, my entire skin is covered with fur and my muzzle lengthens. It’s the precursor to a full shift and they know it.

The merfolk freezes, his gills drooping in submission. The troll takes half a step back, the chair leg clattering to the floor.

"Here's what's going to happen," I continue, releasing Olven's wrist. "Olven, you're going to pay Mira for the damages to her mirror. Jada, you're going to apologize for whatever you said about Olven's mother. Then you're both going to leave through separate doors and not come back for a month. Understood?"

Both parties grudgingly nod.

"Good. Make it happen."

I watch as Olven pulls out his wallet, counting bills onto the bar with exaggerated care. Jada mumbles what might generously be called an apology. When they finally shuffle out separate exits, the tension in the room dissipates like smoke in a breeze.

Maya approaches, holstering her weapon.