Hijackers

SERIS

​Six years later…

​“Make sure you eat your lunch, it's your favorite,” I said, planting a kiss on Caleb’s forehead. “I love you. Enjoy your trip.”

​His amber eyes gleamed up at me, lips curling into a lopsided smile. “I love you too, Mom.”

​A familiar ache speared my heart. Caleb was looking more and more like him every day. I smothered the feeling before letting him run to the waiting school bus.

​Before he stepped inside, he turned around for a final wave, and I returned the gesture with the best smile I could muster. His first school trip already, and all I could do was stand on the pavement, watching until the big yellow bus finally zoomed out of view.

​Slipping into the driver's seat of my car, I gripped the steering wheel and took a deep breath.

​Six years in the human territories had changed everything. When Uncle Osric smuggled me across the border, I had been a broken, bleeding rogue with nothing but a shattered soul and the faint flicker of a second heartbeat. Now, I was a different woman entirely. I had built a life from the ashes, putting my education to use to secure an entry-level position at a struggling startup.

​As it turned out, surviving beneath a domineering Alpha and helping manage a pack had left me with skills the human world valued more than I ever expected—organization, negotiation, and the ability to thrive under pressure. Six years, several promotions, and more than one company restructuring later, I had carved out a life where my son could grow up far from the cruel politics of the pack lands.

​The drive to the city center was smooth, the morning traffic a comforting hum compared to the wild chaos of my past life. I pulled into the executive parking garage of the corporate high-rise, the engine cutting out with a quiet purr.

​The moment I stepped through the glass doors of the lobby, the familiar, fast-paced rhythm of my day took over.

​"Good morning, Ms. Sinclair," the receptionist greeted smoothly.

​Before I even reached the elevator, my routine was already in motion. My heavy trench coat was deftly lifted from my shoulders, and my leather bag was taken from my hand. In their place, a perfectly hot, steaming cup of black coffee was slid into my palm. I took a grateful sip, letting the dark roast ground me as I marched toward the executive suite.

​My personal assistant, Maya, fell into step right beside me, a tablet balanced in one hand and a stack of folders in the other. She began her rapid-fire morning briefing without missing a beat as we walked.

​"The Q3 financial projections are on your desk, Ms. Sinclair. The legal team cleared the new acquisition contracts, but they need your signature before noon. Also, the international marketing directors are already waiting in the main conference room for the ten o'clock strategy alignment."

​"Excellent," I murmured, pushing open the heavy oak doors to my private office. The sprawling view of the human city skyline laid out before me was a stark reminder of how far I'd come. I walked over to the desk, setting down my coffee as Maya neatly dropped the reports onto the polished wood. "Give me ten minutes to review these summaries, Maya, and then bring the marketing team in."

​“Yes, ma'am. And you have a meeting with the CEO at noon. It was just put on the schedule.”

​My stomach churned at the mention of Robert Lane, my mood instantly souring. “Noted.”

​Nothing good ever happened around him.

​—

​At exactly noon, I stepped into the CEO's office, and the air already felt suffocating.

​Robert leaned forward the moment I took a seat, leering unapologetically at me. I stared back, keeping my expression entirely professional. “You wanted to see me, Robert?”

​“I always want to see you,” he smooth-talked, his dark eyes drilling holes into me while his bald head caught the glare from the floor-to-ceiling windows.

​My neck started to itch right where my mark used to be. I didn't offer a response to the comment, keeping my posture rigid.

​He sighed, leaning back in his leather chair. “You are one of our oldest employees. I find that I have taken a liking to you. But even after all these years…” He raked his eyes over my body slow enough to make my skin crawl. “I feel like I don't really know who Inez Sinclair is. If that is even your real name.”

​His voice was light, but it was laced with a dark, creeping suspicion.

​A chill ran straight down my spine. It wasn't my real name; it was the alias my uncle had meticulously fabricated to keep me off the grid. No human knew what I was, or where I came from, and I intended to keep it that way.

​“I really ought to get back to work,” I replied plainly, masking the sudden spike in my pulse.

​“No,” he disallowed, clicking his tongue. “You aren't much of a talker, Inez. So why don’t we watch some TV instead?”

​Before I could refuse, he aimed a remote at the flat screen on the wall. It flickered to life, the red banner flashed across the screen in bold, jagged letters: BREAKING NEWS.

​The anchor’s voice was stark, cutting through the tense atmosphere of the office. "We are coming to you live with reports of a crisis just outside the city limits. A school bus traveling on a field trip has been intercepted and hijacked by unidentified armed individuals. Law enforcement is currently tracking—"

​"—the students of Oakridge Elementary," the field reporter cut in, a map zooming in on the screen.

​My breath caught in my throat. My vision tunneled. Oakridge.

​"Initial reports state the bus was ran off the road..."

​The world tilted on its axis. Caleb. It was Caleb’s bus.

​"Inez?" Robert’s voice sounded miles away, dripping with hollow curiosity. "Isn't that the school your—"

​I didn't let him finish. I was out of the chair in a blink, the human speed I usually worked so hard to mimic completely abandoning me in a surge of pure, primal adrenaline. The door slammed against the wall as I ripped it open, blurring past a startled Maya in the hallway.

​Panic clutched my chest, tightening like a vice around my lungs. I didn't wait for the elevator. I tore down the emergency stairwell, my heart hammering a frantic, agonizing rhythm against my ribs. Not my son. Please, moon, not my son.

​I threw myself into the driver's seat of my car, the tires screeching against the concrete floor of the garage as I tore out into the afternoon traffic. I didn't care about the speed limits. 

My mind was an absolute void of terror, Xena scratching frantically at the edges of my consciousness, desperate to hunt down whatever had dared touch our pup.

​I neared the school, expecting to find a barricade of police cruisers and hysterical parents. Instead, just as I slammed on the brakes near the entrance gates, a loud, familiar engine roar echoed down the street.

​The yellow school bus miraculously pulled up to the curb, flanked by two flashing police escorts.

​I was out of the car before it even came to a complete halt. My knees buckled with a mixture of sheer relief and impending dread as the bus doors creaked open.

​Children began to trickle out, escorted by officers, but my eyes raked through the crowd until they locked onto a small, trembling figure.

​"Caleb!" the scream tore from my throat.

​He looked up. His white shirt was brutally torn at the shoulder, dark smudges of dirt and soot marring his porcelain skin. Heavy, silent tears rolled down his flushed cheeks, leaving tracks through the grime. But what made the blood in my veins turn to absolute ice was his right wrist.

​A heavy, steel handcuff encircled his small arm, tethering him directly to the wrist of a grim-faced police officer who was now looking at me. 

“Are you the mother of Caleb Sinclair?” He demanded. 

I nodded, reaching for Caleb but he recoiled from me. 

“You have to come with me now.