Chapter 2

The second the door clicked shut, all nine of Brandon's tails exploded into full fluff. They looked like nine giant white feather dusters that had just been scared half to death.

I leaned against the door and stared at him.

"Start explaining."

Brandon clutched the spatula so tightly his knuckles turned white. After a painfully long silence, he finally blurted out, "The mushrooms are going to burn."

"Brandon."

"I should turn off the stove first," he said in a rush.

"Brandon."

"They're seriously going to burn."

I stepped aside.

He bolted into the kitchen, fumbling to switch off the burner. His tails whipped across the dining table, sweeping my screwdriver, the TV remote and half a bag of chips onto the floor.

I crouched down to pick everything up.

He stood beside me with his fox ears flattened low against his head.

"I'm sorry."

"How much have you lied to me about?" I asked.

"Not much."

"Tell me."

"My name is real." He glanced at me cautiously. "And... I'm really male."

I grabbed the screwdriver.

He immediately added, "My age isn't. I'm not twenty-six. I'm a hundred and twenty-six."

My hand jerked. The screwdriver almost landed on my foot.

"One hundred and twenty-six?"

"Fox shapeshifters don't become adults until much later."

"Then why were you pretending to be some recent college grad living in my apartment?"

"I look like one."

That, unfortunately, was true.

Brandon had one of those clean, youthful faces that looked like life had never thrown a single problem his way.

No one would ever guess he was actually older than my great-grandmother.

I sat down on the couch. "Keep going."

He shuffled over and sat across from me, folding all nine tails neatly into a fluffy pile.

"I'm the heir to the Whitetail Fox Clan. I was interning at the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs, helping to register supernatural residents."

"Interning?"

He nodded.

"You're a hundred and twenty-six years old and still an intern?"

He pressed his lips together. "The supernatural job market isn't great either."

I had no comeback for that.

Fair enough.

Nobody had it easy these days.

He explained that his aunt, Julia, had always wanted him to become the next head of the Whitetail Fox Clan.

The fox clans cared deeply about bloodlines, and he was the only heir of his generation born with nine tails.

The problem was that Brandon had crippling social anxiety. Forget leading an entire clan, he could not even order coffee without writing down what he wanted to say and memorizing it several times beforehand.

Determined to force him into accepting responsibility, Julia arranged a political marriage for him.

His fiancée was the heir to the Peacock Clan. She was beautiful, proud and intimidating. The very first thing she had said when they met was, "If you so much as touch me after we're married, I'll rip out every one of your tails and hang them over my fireplace."

Brandon ran away that very night.

"So why did you end up outside my apartment?" I asked.

He lowered his head. "I was trying to get to the train station."

"And?"

"I came out of the wrong subway exit."

"You got so lost you ended up in my neighborhood?"

"My sense of direction is... pretty bad."

"You're a fox, not a husky."

He muttered under his breath, "Honestly... huskies have a better sense of direction than I do."

I rubbed my forehead.

The creamy mushroom chicken in the kitchen had gone cold. He carried it over and gently set it in front of me.

"Do you... still want to eat?"

"Of course." I picked up my fork. "Just because I got lied to doesn't mean dinner has to go to waste."

Only after he saw me take the first bite did the tip of one of his tails finally relax.

It was delicious.

As ridiculous as his story was, his cooking was unquestionably amazing.

My phone suddenly rang.

An unknown number.

The moment I answered, Julia's voice came through.

"Ms. Lloyd, you turned down the bank card. That tells me you aren't blinded by money."

I let out a dry laugh. "Thanks for the compliment."

"So I decided to try something else." She sounded almost cheerful. "That appliance repair shop downstairs from your apartment... it belongs to you, doesn't it?"

My fork froze halfway to my mouth. "What are you planning?"

"Nothing much."

I could practically hear her shrug.

"The Whitetail Fox Clan manages hundreds of social media accounts. By tonight, your business page will have a few hundred one-star reviews."

She paused deliberately.

"The headline will read...

"'Don't ever use this repair shop. The owner is sheltering a fugitive fox shapeshifter.'"

I was speechless.

Brandon shot to his feet. "Aunt Julia, you can't do that!"

A soft laugh came from the other end.

"Brandon, adults have to live with the consequences of their choices. If you refuse to come home, she'll pay the price instead."

I stared down at the creamy mushroom chicken. Suddenly, I was not hungry anymore.

That repair shop was all my dad had left me. He had passed away when I was young. The shop was old, the sign had long since faded, and it survived only because loyal customers had kept coming back year after year.

Every day, I repaired washing machines, dryers, dishwashers and every kind of broken household appliance people dragged through the door.

I worked hard for one reason: To keep the shop alive.

If our rating got buried under fake one-star reviews, we would sink in the search results. New customers would disappear, appointments would start getting canceled and the business my father had built would slowly die.

That would hurt far more than taking a knife to me.

Brandon's voice shook. "I'll go back with you. Just... please leave her shop alone."

I looked up.

"Sit down."

"Mabel..."

"I said sit."

Slowly, he lowered himself back into his chair.

Then I spoke into the phone.

"Mrs. Simmons, is bullying people like this the Whitetail Fox Clan's idea of doing business?"

Julia's voice instantly turned cold. "Ms. Lloyd, watch your words."

"I already am." My voice stayed calm. "If you flood my shop with fake one-star reviews, I'll post the truth online. I'll tell everyone your clan tried to force Brandon into a political marriage. I'm curious to see what the media and the public think about that."

The line went quiet.

Then Julia chuckled.

"And who exactly would believe you?"

I looked at Brandon. His fox ears were still sticking out. I raised my phone and pointed the camera at him.

Click.

Brandon blinked.

"Mabel?"

I spoke into the phone. "Want to guess whether the internet likes real fox ears?"

Julia's voice turned ice cold. "You'll regret this, Mabel."

The call ended.

Brandon looked at me, his eyes already rimmed red.

"You didn't have to make an enemy of her because of me."

I set my phone face down on the table.

"I didn't."

He blinked.

"Then why?"

I took another bite of chicken.

"Because I hate it when people threaten my shop."