“Fine,” Hunter grumbled, shrugging his shoulders as he stepped back. The wind strengthened, flapping at his hood as he turned to face the younger children playing in the park. “The therapy, did it help?”
Sam paused, answering honestly. “It helped enough. I now have better adjectives to describe my dark thoughts and emotions.”
That brought a small smile to Hunter’s lips, one that lasted only a second. “Sam, can you keep a secret?” he asked after a few minutes. “I saw Axel today.”
Sam ignored the flutter in his chest. “Yeah?”
Hunter swallowed hard. “He was with a dealer.”
“Oh.” Sam couldn’t think of another appropriate response.
“It’s not like it’s a secret that he takes that shit, he’s always high. But he seemed… different. Desperate. I’m not sure what to do.”
“Have you told anyone else?”
“No, I didn’t want to just rat him out to Ti. I know what it’s like to be addicted to that type of stuff, you don’t think straight.” Dark brows drew together. “Do you think I should?”
“Why don’t you let me deal with it? I’ll talk to him, see if he’s okay.”
“But what about –”
“If he’s suffering,” Sam added. “I promise I will tell Titus, and we will get him the help he needs.”
“Okay.” Hunter pulled his sleeves down, hiding his hands. “The Guardians have helped me, you know? I don’t want any of them to hurt.”
Sam smiled. “You’re a good kid, Hunter.”
“Ugh.” Hunter pulled the hood further down, shadowing his entire face. “I’m not a kid,” he grumbled.
Chapter8
Sam
Sam barely contained his leopard as his landlord, Mr Gibbson, handed him the new tenant details.
“This is bullshit!” he argued, scrunching the paper into a fist. “You can’t just quadruple my rent, that’s theft!”
“That’s the agreement,” Mr Gibbson said. “You got discounted rent while you did up the place, and you’ve done a great job. So good in fact I can charge my tenants a hell of a lot more. Plus, I’ve already got a few of the packs signing up interest, and they will happily pay the increase if you don’t.”
Sam growled. “I have rights, you can’t just kick me out of my home.”
“Actually, I own the property, Mr Murphy.” Mr Gibbson crossed his arms, his animal flashing behind his irises. “And what rights? You’re a rogue, you don’t even have a pack to back you up who could move in here and help with the costs.”
“I’m not a rogue!” Sam mirrored Mr Gibbons posture, stopping himself from punching the smug smile from the bastard’s face. “I’m a registered loner with White Dawn. I’m allowed to be here.”
“Get yourself a pack, or a mate even, and maybe you’ll have more rights. Until then, I can charge what the fuck I like, because I doubt Councilman Xavier is gonna give a shit if you complain.”
Sam bit his tongue, knowing he was right. Shifters were generally autonomous within their packs, with only extreme situations calling for the involvement of the tiger who represented their entire Breed on The Council. Sam was without a pack, which meant he was fucked unless he went to the human housing regulator. But that could take months, if not longer.
“You agreed to sell it to me. That was the deal. I’ve been saving for well over a year and I’ve got a bloody meeting with the bank next week.”
“Well, life isn’t fair.”
“This is the last time I go with a shifter landlord!” Sam shouted as Mr Gibbson opened the front door, his chubby belly brushing the frame when he turned.
“Four weeks, Mr Murphy. Otherwise, I’ll get the pack to personally give you a visit.” Mr Gibbons walked down the steps, hand reaching up to touch some of the faerie lights Sam had strung from the tall hedges. “Four weeks.”
Sam slammed the door closed, claws prickling his fingertips. He loved his house, having literally restored it from the old, decrepit train station it once was to a warm, welcoming home. He’d knocked down walls, redone the bathroom and even sorted the garden all by himself to save money. There were still tracks that once worked hundreds of years ago, and now were connected to nowhere. The house had history, character. He had planned to live there forever, and Mr Gibbson had just fucked him over.
