Predator Code (Tales from Wildhearth #1)

Chapter 08 - Trust is a Luxury Item

The local lawhouse was a brooding fortress of pale, kiln-hardened ceramic blocks, reinforced with long ribs of dark metal at regular intervals along its structure. Rising five stories high, it formed an angular horseshoe with a broad plaza facing the main thoroughfare, paved with hard-mud slabwork. Three identical stairways rose to the entrances on the middle, left and right of the plaza, the late morning sun throwing a blaze of gold over the eastern portion of the building.

Armed vulkin guards flanked the doors, keeping a wary eye on the citykin flowing in and out, be they witnesses, suspects, or simply concerned citizens making reports. The place seethed with activity, patrols coming and going, orders barking in the air to mix with the scent of cheap muskbrew and cooked meat from the lawhouse kitchens.

And in a dingy, low-lit box of a room, squirrelled away on the first floor of the eastern wing, Jett sat.

Her eyes were dry now, but red-rimmed as she stared at the surface of the metal table. She clasped her paws on her lap, shoulders slumped, a pain burning in her throat. An agony burning in her heart.

It had taken three of them to drag her from the den. When she finally stopped struggling they'd half-led, half-carried her hollow shell through the streets to the lawhouse. Now she waited for... an interview. At least that's what Bronco called it. It was a polite word for interrogation. Jett tried to think of what to say to them when the time came, of how she could possibly rationalise everything that had happened. Even in her own head it all seemed so impossible, like a fever dream.

Could she really sit here in a lawhouse and accuse the wolfkin enforcers? Would anyone believe it?

Her jaw twitched and she swallowed hard. She didn't have a choice. She was alone now, and the enforcers were still out there, waiting; hunting. The walls of the lawhouse would keep her safe for now, but she needed a plan. She couldn't hide here for the rest of her life.

The lock on the door clunked and Jett finally raised her eyes from the table. Bronco came through first, dipping his head slightly as he entered the room. A female watchguard followed, not as big as Bronco but still tall and powerfully built. Her coat was golden, large ears peeking through a short bob cut of deep brown headfur. The soft lines of her muzzle crinkled slightly as she appraised Jett, eyes deep, dark and unreadable.

Jett shifted uncomfortably; lowered her eyes again. The two vulkin slipped into the chairs opposite her and she could feel the tension in the air. What had happened in her den was an order of magnitude worse than anything the local guard packs would normally have to deal with.

"Jett?"

She looked up at Bronco's voice. Nodded.

"This is Guard Seleena."

"Hi." It came out in a croak.

"Good afternoon." Seleena's voice was soft; thick. Her expression softened and she gave Jett a gentle nod. "Before we begin, I'd like to say how sorry we are for your loss."

Jett sniffed. "Thanks."

"That being said, with a crime of this nature, the quicker we move the faster we can bring the people who did it to justice. Are you up to answering some questions?"

"Yeah." She coughed to clear her throat and met the vulkin's stare. "What do you want to know?"

"I understand you have a mate? He wasn't at the scene and no-one seems to be able to locate him."

Her chest tightened, a lump rising in her throat again. She tried to open her mouth to say his name, but her voice failed her. The tears threatened to well up again and she blinked furiously, trying to keep her composure. She managed to nod.