2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

B old

"Bold! Got another call!" Courage shouts in a mocking, singsong voice.

"Tell them you'll take a message, then accidentally hang up. Just like I've told you for the last ten calls."

"I did. This guy's called three times. Take pity on me and see what he wants. Besides, who died and elected me your personal secretary?"

"Courage, can you stop bitching about this?" My tail twitches with annoyance.

"We're supposed to be a team, right, Bold? So how about you cut the wisecracks and just do your job? Take the phone."

He's got a point. I'm not exactly living up to my name by hiding from all these people. I took the first few calls. Some were lonely older women doing the phone equivalent of throwing their panties at me. I have to admit, that's a first. Glad I seldom leave the Integration Zone. Human women are unpredictable.

There were a bunch of reporters calling to get the blow-by-blow description of my daring rescue. Of course, it's because I rescued a human. No one was knocking down the Wolven Warriors' door for an interview when we saved a dozen Others who were attacked by Purists a few months ago.

Of course, that didn't merit a single word of print by the human media.

After receiving the next two calls—one urging me to endorse a product named Fur Fertilizer promising thicker, shinier hair, and the other proposing me as the spokesperson for Alpha Male Cologne, a pheromone-infused scent designed to attract female admirers—I stopped answering the phone.

Most of our team hangs out here at HQ in the heart of the Zone, manning it twenty-four hours a day. It's on the first floor of an old apartment building. Many of us live upstairs in small apartments.

We haven't been empowered by the local human government to call ourselves police or carry badges, although we made our own badges, which allowed us to do a lot of good when we braved leaving the Zone to help in the aftermath of the tidal wave.

Still, every male, female, and child in the Zone knows who to call when there's trouble. After everything I've been through, I like being able to give back to my community.

I grab the phone Courage is holding out for me and launch without saying hello. "Look. Quit calling. I'm not interested in being a lonely woman's kept male or the spokeswolf for some shitty product that doesn't work and nobody wants."

"Good for you, Bold. From what I saw on TV, you don't look like the type who wants to be associated with bullshit."

I'd been about to hang up without hearing another word, but there's something about this guy that makes me want to hear him out.

"Okay. I'll bite. What lame scheme are you offering?"

"My name is John Sinclair. I'm a dad who loves his daughter. Jasmine's a bright, caring woman who wants to save the world. She's a professional counselor who works with people who've been abused. Her office isn't in the best part of town. I've been hammering on her for months to allow me to provide protection for her."

I wanted to hate this guy and hang up at the first opportunity. But he sounds like a caring father. Instead of telling him to take a hike, I keep listening.

"Yesterday, Jasmine testified in front of a room full of California lawmakers, begging them to launch an investigation into a multinational corporation that's been abusing minors and using them as unpaid labor under the guise of their sick idea of therapy."

I have a good sense about people, and I already know two things: this guy loves his daughter, and although she may not be in danger, he sure believes she is.

"If the investigation even scratches the surface, it sounds as though they'll find evidence of kids being tied up and put on starvation rations, as well as serious physical and emotional abuse. I support my daughter a thousand percent, but it's clear she's put herself in danger with powerful people."

He heaves a heavy sigh as he says, "She's finally agreed to quit fighting me on the bodyguard idea."

His little speech brought up more questions than answers, so I ask the first thing that comes to mind.

"Why did she agree to protection now?"

"Before, my worries were vague, but now that Jasmine has publicly pressured California lawmakers to pursue these types of programs, with Nature's Edge Expedition front and center, the threat seems more real. My daughter may be optimistic and na?ve, but she's not stupid."

His answer makes sense.

"And why me ?" Is this another lonely woman who saw me on the news and decided she wanted a furry pet she could fuck?

"She saw you on TV…"

Ah, here it comes.

"And she saw your compassion. Since you'll be in contact with her clients, she thought they might feel protected by you."

She saw all that in a one-minute clip? For the first time since the rescue, I feel the warm burst of pride exploding in my chest. I hadn't allowed myself to bask in my accomplishment until right this moment.

"And you? Why are you okay with having a wolf so close to your vulnerable daughter?"

Wolven do not use the term "wolf" to describe ourselves. My question was for effect, to see what this man is made of. After all, it sounds as though he's the one who'll be paying my salary.

"We both saw the news footage of you making that rescue yesterday. You risked your life to save that young woman. Jasmine calls the shots when it comes to her work. I'm just the one pushing for her safety." His voice is firm. "It's the first time she's agreed to have a bodyguard. She thinks you're the right fit, so that's good enough for me. Besides, you clearly know how to handle yourself in a crisis. That's the kind of protection she needs right now."

I nod, appreciating his candor. He's not just some overprotective father trying to control his daughter's life. He genuinely respects her choices and wants what's best for her. Curbing my urge to be impulsive and take the job without knowing all the facts, I say, "I'll need to know my work hours and the salary."

He mentions a jaw-dropping amount of money. When I make a decidedly wolven-like chuff, he adds, "The amount isn't that generous when you consider you'll be on-call 24/7. She has a little house behind my property. I'll install a granny pod nearby for you, so we can all have privacy."

"Granny pod?" I'll admit, I'm stumped.

"Yeah, you can Google them. They're pre-fab tiny houses. One main room and a little bathroom, yet all the comforts of home. Most are used for aging parents, hence the name, but we'll get yours tricked out in a way to make you comfortable. You'll have your own space, small, but brand new. I'll pay for all the carryout and DoorDash you want to order. That way, you'll be close enough to come running if Jazz needs you."

I was going to say yes before he offered the exorbitant salary. I need a change of scenery and it sounds as though his daughter needs me. Besides, it's perfect timing. I don't want any more offers to put my name on things like "Survival of the Wolfest," an online course on harnessing your inner wolf instincts.

"Sure, Mr. Sinclair. When do I start?"