7: Saving The Tycoon's Brother

CARA’S POV

Seven days ago, I was clueless in New York until I discovered how to change my fate. The first wolf I treated was Marc, and he had helped me with a roof over my head. Although the flat needed some fixing up, it was workable and in a vantage area. 

With the money I earned from saving Marc's life, I bought the tools I needed to start a profession. This metal suitcase went everywhere with me, including now as I walked into the rundown building with Marc Babel. 

He rolled up the coiling door, and we ducked while entering inside. The light bulb above the flat work surface flickered. I sighed, searching for a bulb through the drawers. When I found one, I proceeded to fix them while dressed in baggy denim jeans and a button-down shirt. 

He said, "You've almost made this place unrecognisable." 

"Don't insult me. I've done nothing in four days. Why are you even still here?"

Marc remembered himself. "I put up a flyer for help around the city, but then, I'm still not sure what to call you." 

"Hmm." I stopped working on the bulb, making a thinking face he couldn't see through the darkness. "I'm not anything special. The doctor could work."

"Got it." He turned to leave as I successfully replaced the bulb. 

"Thank you, Marc. I—" 

He didn’t pause his steps as he said over his shoulder, "I'm almost done repaying you. Almost."

A few seconds after he left, I jumped down from the surface, satisfied because the light was now stable. I tossed the old one in the trash and picked up a hammer to continue working on the windows. 

I didn't have superhuman senses, but I saw something shift from the corner of my eye. It was fast and obviously dangerous.

Instantly, I turned, gripping the hammer tighter in my hand. "This would be much easier if you stopped running and faced me."

I pinched my gaze at the calm view of the warehouse. Silence had responded, but I refused to believe I was the only one here.

At the instant, I whirled around, about to use the hammer. I only stopped when I saw the face of my guest. A strange girl.

"You must be the doctor. I'm Ximena." Her blonde and pink hair had my eyes fixated. Had the rainbow fallen from the sky and became human without anyone noticing? 

I didn't take the hand she offered, still frowning. "Why do you look so colourful?"

She brought out the flyer, and I eyed Marc's not-so-great job, but he was a popular deserter amongst wolves. It was a good idea to attach his name to the flyer for clarity of the job requirements. One: has a flair for danger. And two: is a werewolf.

While Ximena matched the second, she had unapologetically skipped the first and main one.

Ximena gave herself a once-over before handing me the flyer. "You don't like my clothes?" 

"You are literally wearing a dress embroidered with tiny watermelons."

"Watermelons are cool." She beamed, and I forced a smile to avoid yelling out my frustration.

"I can't hire you." I went around to the window farthest from the door, wishing she could disappear. But no, she followed me around.

"Why not?" 

"Because I haven't even seen other applicants." 

"Marc only put up one... Sort of put up one."

I squinted. "Wait, you know Marc Babel?" 

Ximena's hands covered her mouth as soon as the words were out. I turned away from the window, dropping the plank in my hand. What the hell is going on?

She blew out her cheeks, realising there was no out to this moment. 

"The Lycan King of Eastmoon ordered all rogues and deserters be killed. Marc aborted the flyer mission instantly and asked for my help."

I folded my arms over my chest. "He should have just said so." Everything suddenly didn't make sense to me as my frown deepened. "Why would the Lycan King do that? He's risking a wolf war in the 21st century, you know?"

"I have no idea, but you are stuck with me, Cara."

I tucked my tongue in my cheek, feigning thinking about hiring her for a few seconds. "Fine, you are hired. 50$ per hour. We work only nights, and you are on scout duty." 

"Aye, captain." Ximena saluted. "How busy are we looking at?"

"I'm not looking for quantity. I just need you to scout clients who have fat pockets. At least, until we find our footing."

For two hours, Ximena and I worked on the warehouse. I was going to be sleeping and working here for now, so we had to do a good job about it.

Eventually, she cleaned the sweat off her forehead and said, "It's eight. I have to get going if we hope to be successful on our first night."

"Sure," I said through the sound of the electrical drill and hoped she had heard me. 

I removed the protective glasses over my eyes after a while, staring at the finished job. The barred window now had two planks crossed over it, leaving only a tiny space for ventilation.

I still had one more to go, but my bed was already in place in a far corner of the warehouse. Even if I ran out of time, I could crash and resume tomorrow. The coiling door rolled up again, shocking me.

"Ximena?"

Except it wasn't her that walked in. Four werewolves came in after the door had reached its end. They were in a hurry while carrying the fourth on their shoulders.

Their instincts had them placing him on the flat work surface, but I found myself stuck to a spot and wide-eyed. 

The man, who carried himself like the leader of the four, spoke first. His voice was hard and experienced with making people fear him. "My brother is dying. I need you to fix him."

I had so many questions going through my head. Who are these people? How did they find this place if Marc hadn't started advertising?

I took many shaky steps forward. My eyes were glued to the young man lying on the work surface. He was nothing I had ever seen before. This wasn't silver poisoning. I gulped.

"You removed the bullet I put inside Marc Babel and let that walking pain in the ass survive. I'm afraid you'd have to work your magic again."

I met his hard stare, and for the first time in a long while, I was blank on what to do. His brother's eyes had been covered by a white film. His skin was as cold as ice, and he had dark veins spreading like webbed vines beneath his skin. It was horrific to look at.

"Get a closer look." He added.

I did, checking for a pulse, which seemed impossible to find, but it was there. His heart also maintained a steady rhythm. This man was alive but lost in an undefined comatose state.

"He's alive."

"But not for long—"

"I can't fix him."

Our eyes locked again, and a vein in his forehead popped. "I'll give you all the money you want. Just ask." 

"You don't understand. A demon did this to him. How could I possibly know how to fix him?"

It was the truth, but the man's chiselled jaw set, and his eyes darkened in fury. I couldn't match that with my harmless stare. Not a chance in hell.

Immediately, the other two men took out their guns and pointed the nozzles at me. The cool end of one touched the back of my head while the other targeted my heart.

"I'm not used to the word no, Cara Smyth. If you want to live, save him."