Safe.
Mine.
"You're safe here," I said, the words coming out before I could analyze them. "O'Rourke won't touch you in my territory."
He looked up at me skeptically. "Why would you protect me? What do you get out of it?"
A fair question. One I didn't have a completely rational answer for.
"Let's just say I find the idea of O'Rourke acquiring unique talents... distasteful." It wasn't a lie, just not the complete truth. "And I've never been one to pass up an opportunity to deny him something he wants."
"So I'm just a pawn in some turf war between criminal bosses?" His voice held a bitter edge.
"No." The word came out more forcefully than I intended. "You're under my protection now. That's different."
"I don't need protection," he insisted, though the slight tremor in his voice suggested otherwise. "I can take care of myself."
"Clearly," I said dryly, gesturing to the office around us. "Your self-preservation skills are remarkable."
That earned me a glare, but I could see the corner of his mouth twitch upward slightly.
"Look," I continued, "O'Rourke doesn't give up easily. Those men will be back, with reinforcements. You can try to run, and maybe you'll succeed for a while. Or you can accept my offer of sanctuary."
"And what does that cost me?" he asked warily. "Everything has a price."
In my century of existence, I'd never offered protection without clear terms and benefits. Business was business, after all. But as I looked at him—really looked at him—I found myself unwilling to treat this as a mere transaction.
"For now," I said carefully, "consider it a professional curiosity. You intrigue me, Mishka. That doesn't happen often."
It was an understatement. In fact, I couldn't remember the last time anyone had sparked such immediate interest—both intellectual and, if I was being honest with myself, something far more primal.
He studied me for a long moment, those green eyes seeming to see more than I intended to reveal. "You're not human, are you?"
The question was direct, unexpected. I considered deflecting but decided against it. This young man had already seen too much to be fobbed off with lies.
"Not entirely, no," I admitted. "Does that bother you?"
"Depends on what the other part is," he replied, his voice steadier now. "If you're part axe murderer, then yeah, it bothers me a bit."
Another rusty laugh escaped me. "Not an axe murderer."
"That's... specific and not at all reassuring."
I leaned back in my chair, enjoying the verbal sparring more than I should. It had been a long time since anyone had spoken to me with such unguarded honesty. Most were too afraid, too calculating.
"I'm a bear shifter," I said finally. "Have been for over a century."
His eyes widened slightly, but to his credit, he didn't immediately bolt for the door. "Like... a were-bear?"
"Similar concept, different mythology," I replied. "And before you ask, no, the full moon has nothing to do with it."
"Okay." He nodded slowly, processing. "A bear shifter crime boss is protecting me from a human crime boss who wants to use my electronic abilities. Sure. Why not? This week couldn't get any weirder."
I felt my lips curve into another smile. "I wouldn't tempt fate with statements like that."
For the first time, he reached for the vodka glass, taking a small sip. Progress. Trust, in its simplest form.
"So what now?" he asked, setting the glass down.
