EMMA POV
The elevator doors slid shut, cutting off the sight of the heavy oak doors and the man behind them.
The moment the seal broke, I collapsed.
I didn't faint like I thought I would; instead, my legs just stopped working. I slid down the mirrored wall until I hit the floor, clutching my chest. It felt like someone had reached inside my ribcage and severed a cord that I hadn't known existed until thirty seconds ago. It was a physical ache, a hollow, gnawing hunger that started in my stomach and radiated out to my fingertips.
GO BACK! Artemis screamed.
It wasn't a whisper this time. It was a command that rattled my teeth.
He pushed us away. He rejected us. BITE HIM. Make him bleed. Make him submit.
"Shut up," I gasped, digging my fingers into my scalp. "Please, just shut up. I'm having a panic attack. That's all this is. Just a panic attack."
Liar, Artemis hissed. You felt the heat. You felt the bond. He is our Alpha. And he kicked us out.
The elevator plummeted toward the lobby. My ears popped, and the nausea rolled over me in a violent wave. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to picture my therapist’s office. I tried to picture the calming blue painting on her wall. Count the brushstrokes, Emma. Count the brushstrokes.
But all I could see were those grey eyes.
Silver, Artemis corrected.
The elevator chimed, and the doors opened to the lobby. I scrambled to my feet, using the handrail to pull myself up. I had to get out of this building. I had to get away from the smell of him. It was stuck in my nose, that mix of rain and iron. It was driving me crazy.
I walked past the security desk. The night guard, a man named Henderson who usually gave me a nod, didn't look up from his monitors. But as I passed him, I saw his posture stiffen. He sniffed the air, just like the guard upstairs had.
I pushed through the revolving doors and spilled out onto the sidewalk.
It was raining heavily. The city sounded like static, tires hissing on wet pavement, distant sirens, the low rumble of the subway beneath the grate. The cold water soaked through my blouse instantly, plastering the fabric to my skin, but I didn't feel cold. I felt feverish. My skin was burning hot, steaming in the cool night air.
I started walking toward the subway station, my heels clicking unevenly on the concrete.
"Okay," I muttered to myself, hugging my arms around my chest. "Okay, Emma. You're going home. You're going to take a double dose of the Quetiapine. You're going to sleep for twelve hours. And tomorrow, you're going to call HR and request a transfer to the agonizingly boring auditing department in the basement."
Coward, Artemis spat. We should go back up there and tear his throat out for disrespecting us.
"I am not tearing anyone's throat out!" I said, too loudly.
A woman walking her dog glanced at me nervously and crossed the street.
I kept walking, turning down the narrow alleyway that cut through to the subway entrance. It was a shortcut I took every day. Usually, it was safe. But tonight, I felt like the darkness was heavier than ever.
My neck prickled, and the hairs on my arms stood straight up.
Behind us, there is a predator. Artemis whispered.
I stopped. I didn't want to turn around. I told myself it was just paranoia. It was just the "delusion" acting up because I was stressed.
"Hey, sweetheart."
The voice was wet and raspy, like gravel grinding together.
I turned around slowly.
A man was standing at the mouth of the alley. He was wearing a hooded sweatshirt that was stained with grease, and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets. He didn't look like a typical mugger. He wasn't looking at my purse. He was looking at me. He started sniffing the air, just like how Marcus and the guard did, his upper lip curling back to reveal teeth that looked too yellow and too sharp.
"I don't have any cash," I said, my voice trembling. "Take the phone. It's an old model anyway."
I reached into my pocket to pull out my cell, but the man laughed. It was a low, mocking sound.
"I don't want your phone," he said, taking a step closer. He stepped into a puddle, but he didn't seem to notice the water soaking his sneakers. "You smell expensive. You smell like a payout. And that is what I do for a living, hunting predators".
"What?" I took a step back. "I'm an analyst. I make forty grand a year."
"Not you," he said, tilting his head. "Your blood. The Boss has a bounty out for anything that smells like the old labs or chemicals. And you... god, you reek of it. Metallic, wrong but strong."
Before I could even process what he was saying, he lunged at me.
He moved faster than any human should be able to move. One second he was ten feet away, and the next he was right in front of me. He grabbed my shoulders, his fingers digging into my flesh like iron claws. His breath smelled like rotting meat.
"Let's see what color you bleed," he growled.
Panic exploded in my chest. But it wasn't the freezing, paralyzing panic I was used to. It was hot like a furnace, red-hot rage.
KILL HIM! Artemis shrieked.
My body moved without my permission. I didn't think about it and I certainly didn't plan it. My right hand shot up and slammed into the center of his chest. I just wanted to push him away. I just wanted breathing room.
There was a sickening crack, the sound of ribs snapping.
The man didn't just stumble back and flew to God knows where.
He was lifted off his feet as if he had been hit by a truck. He sailed through the air, traveling ten, maybe fifteen feet, before he slammed into the brick wall of the adjacent building. He hit the bricks with a wet thud and slid down to the pavement, groaning.
I stared at my hand.
It looked normal. My manicured fingernails, my small palm, my wrist that looked so fragile.
"What..." I whispered.
The man on the ground coughed, spitting up blood. He looked at me with wide, terrified eyes. "What the hell are you?" he wheezed. "That's not... that's not human strength. Of fucking course.."
I didn't wait to answer.
I turned and ran.
I sprinted toward the subway station but didn't stop there. Instead, I shot right past it, covering the six blocks to my apartment building without getting tired. My lungs didn't burn; my legs moved with a mechanical, terrifying efficiency. I was a blur, running even faster than the cars on the street.
I burst into the lobby of my building, startling the elderly doorman, Mr. Henderson.
"Miss Carter?" he asked, standing up. "Is everything alright? You're soaking wet."
"I'm fine!" I yelled over my shoulder, not waiting for the elevator. I took the stairs. I lived on the fourth floor. I took the steps three at a time, leaping up the flights like... like an animal.
I fumbled with my keys at my door, scratching the paint around the lock before I finally managed to jam the key in. I threw the door open, stumbled inside, and slammed it shut. I locked the deadbolt. I locked the chain. I dragged a heavy wooden chair from the kitchen table and wedged it under the handle.
Only then did I let myself breathe.
My apartment was quiet. It smelled like the lemon cleaner I used and the drying lavender I kept in a vase. It was normal and I was safe.
But I wasn't.
My stomach lurched violently. I clamped a hand over my mouth and ran to the bathroom and fell to my knees in front of the toilet and retched. Nothing came up but bile and water, but my body kept trying to purge itself, trying to get rid of the adrenaline, the fear, the smell of the man in the alley.
I dry-heaved until my throat was raw. I sat back on my heels, shaking uncontrollably and reached up and turned on the cold water tap, splashing my face. I grabbed a towel and scrubbed my skin, trying to wipe away the feeling of the man's hands on my shoulders.
"It was adrenaline," I whispered to the empty bathroom. "Hysterical strength. Mothers lift cars off their babies. That's what happened. He surprised me, and I panicked."
You broke his ribcage, Artemis said. Her voice was calm now. smug. It felt good. The bone snapping. It felt right.
"Stop it!" I screamed, gripping the edge of the sink. "I am not a monster! I am Emma Carter! I pay my taxes and I watch cooking shows and I am normal!"
I squeezed my eyes shut. "Open your eyes, Emma. Look at yourself. You're fine."
I opened my eyes and looked in the mirror.
The scream died in my throat.
The face looking back at me was mine, but it wasn't. My skin was flushed with a feverish heat. My lips were swollen. But it was my eyes.
My dark, chocolate-brown eyes were gone.
In their place were irises the color of a bruised sunset. A vivid, glowing violet. They weren't just purple; they were luminous, shining with an internal light that cast a faint glow on the bathroom tiles. The pupils were slits. Vertical, predatory slits that pulsed with my heartbeat.
I leaned closer to the glass, my breath fogging the surface. I touched my cheek. The reflection touched its cheek.
"No," I whimpered. "No, this isn't real. This is the hallucination. I'm in bed. I'm asleep. I'm dreaming."
I reached for the bottle of pills on the counter, my hands shaking so hard I knocked a bottle of perfume into the sink. It shattered, the smell of expensive flowers mixing with the smell of my own fear.
Put the pills down, Artemis said. They won't fix this. You can't cure what you are.
"What am I?" I whispered to the violet eyes in the mirror. "What is happening to me?"
Artemis laughed, a dark, rolling sound in the back of my head.
You're finally waking up, Emma. And so is everyone else.
