Chasing Freedom

VII

When she stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around herself, there were three different piles on the mussed-up bed, and the bedroom door was shut. A monochrome jeans and t-shirt pairing. Beige trousers with a tie-die blouse. Dark overalls with a grey long-sleeved top. She decided to go with the practical option, slipping into the nude underwear set, and pulling the jeans up over her legs. Although clearly slim-fit, they were still too big for her. The white t-shirt draped past her hips so she tucked it into the waistband. Shoes were an issue to solve still, but she wouldn't find the solution standing in here.

As she headed to the door, her nerves increased. Needing something to do, she bunched her hair up into a messy bun, tying it off. So far, all she had seen of Kiva's home was this room and the one she'd first woken up in. A long hallway greeted her. Light filtered through from skylights above. There were several doors to the right, but the left was like an art gallery. Treading silently on the wooden floorboards, she took in each framed photo. A few waterfalls. Some abstract line paintings, broken up with anatomy diagrams.

At the end of the hall, she had an option of left or right. Right seemed to be a dead end, so she went the former. When murmured voices grew louder, she knew she'd turned correctly. Kiva, she recognised. Myles was the other. The conversation was hard to follow, but she read the tone of them both and knew it wasn't a light one.

Mira hesitated. Did she want to interrupt them? What if they were discussing pack business—and the dispatch of her? She thought back to the contract she'd signed, after reading and editing until felt settled. Kiva wouldn't go back on that. Even if she cared naught for Mira's life, she had to care about the money she was about to forfeit, and would want back.

When they began to fall silent, she knew they noticed her lurking. They likely would have heard her leave the room, heightened senses and all. Not for the first time, Mira wondered what it would like to be normal; what would change if she could follow instinct as strongly as shifters could. Forcing away the thought, she drew in a breath. There was little point in stalling.

The space she stepped into was warm. To her left, was an L-shaped kitchen. The wooden undertones carried throughout, the cupboards a few shades lighter than the flooring. There was on oversized island bench, covered by granite. A six-seat dining table sat in the middle of the room. To the right was a grey sectional couch. It faced the small TV and lit fireplace. A number of larger windows, framed by white curtains. The white walls were bare in here from any pictures.

Kiva was perched on a stool, her tucked underneath her. Her shoulders were set back, the expression on her face sombre. At Mira's arrival she turned away from Myles. If she wasn't aware of the previous posture, she'd never have questioned the sudden smile, nor softer expression. "Hey, Mira. Do the clothes fit okay?"

"They're good," said Mira, "but I don't have any shoes."

"Let me grab you some." Kiva stood. "Runners? Flats?"

"Runners," she said, even though it wouldn't matter, in truth. Mira had grown used to going barefoot. Digging out stray rocks and leaf litter was something that became a ritual of a night when they settled down. Shoes were a luxury. Sometimes, one they lucked out on. If so, she wore that pair until they were run into the ground, and made do until the next ones.

As Kiva left, passing her to go down the hall she'd just come from, Mira was left without anymore avoidance tactics. Myles was leaning back against the dining table, one ankle crossed over the other. He wore combat boots again, with loose-fit beige cargo pants and a plain black hoodie. His mouth was twisted in a grin, flashing a row of straight teeth.

Everything about him screamed casual—friendly, even—and that made Mira wary. If Kiva was her guard, did that not make him the same? One who was a lot higher in the authority chain.