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Chapter 5 You Thief

[Ella]

"Hey, Ella, sorry I'm late today. How's it going?" says Liam as he pushes the store's front door. He's Andrew's youngest son, a sophomore at Blue Moon University. And he looks like a friendly neighborhood boy, six feet tall, with curly brown hair and brown eyes, plus cute little freckles on the sides of his nose. In fact, he is very kind and enjoys a good laugh. After Andrew broke his leg two days ago, Liam offered to come over and watch the store after his class.

I check my phone screen- it's 5:05.

"That's okay. Everything's fine for the afternoon. Oh yeah, I checked the inventory, and here's the list I organized of what needs to be refilled. You'd better order up soon." I put the list on the register and prepared to leave.

"I will. Thank you, Ella." he nods, his hands clutching the shoulder strap of the duffel bag he's carrying.

"Then see you tomorrow," I wave, grabbing my canvas bag and preparing to leave.

"Just a minute, Ella," Liam stops me. He purses his lips, and his palms rub the sides of his jeans. "Uh... Did you find a date for the dance? I mean for the dancing party this Saturday night."

I blink, suddenly remembering that the day after tomorrow is the 100th anniversary of Blue Moon University. Mia once mentioned that the university had chartered the downtown head office of the Blue Moon Hotel to host the dinner and dance.

"I haven't found a partner yet," I answer. In fact, I have no great interest in such a big dance. I originally planned to meet my classmates and professors on campus and take a few pictures. After that, I intended to stay in my apartment to watch funny pet videos with Ethan, which have been quite popular recently.

Magically, the proud face of my new boss-Mr. Clapton pops into my head. He will definitely attend the dinner.

As his unsmiling face appears in my mind, a cold shiver runs through my body. I rub my arms, trying to press back the little bumps that have risen.

Why am I thinking of the boss who has been out of touch for three days? Since our phone call on Monday night, there hasn't been any contact between us. And every time I sent him Ethan's photos and short videos, there was nothing more than a simple reply- 'Received.'

"Would you like to be my dance partner?" Liam's question pulls me back to reality. His brown eyes look like 2 stars have grown. Even his volume is louder than before.

The boy's face, which was slightly nervous and expectant, reminds me of my cousin Jacob, who would wait for me to give him candy with such an expectant look when he was little. Poor kid. He's only 19 years old now, and since it's Thursdays, all the school kids must have found their dance partners.

Maybe if Liam had shifted and met his mate, he wouldn't be struggling to find a dance partner.

"I'd love to." I smile at him and nod.

Before leaving the store, I hear Liam's cheering noises. What a lovely kid! May the Moon God arrange an excellent mate for him. I think so as I walk quickly towards the supermarket.


A pink sports car is parked in front of the apartment building, and it appears that a woman with red wavy curls wearing sunglasses is sitting in the driver's seat. If Mia had been there, she would have recognized the brand of the car. Unfortunately, she is in Chicago on a 3-day business trip and will not be back until tomorrow. Besides, I have no interest in sports cars. Especially now, I just want to put back this 10kg shopping package in my arms quickly.

I turn to ascend the steps in front of the apartment when a sharp voice stops my actions.

"Stop, you thief!"

Thief? Where? I look at the sidewalk, colored by the setting sun. To my left, 50 feet away, two passersby are waiting at a red light. To my right, 20 feet away, two small children are playing in front of their house.

So, where is the thief?

"What are you looking for? Expecting someone to help you?" The sharp voice hiding displeasure pierces my ears again.

I see the woman in sunglasses stepping out of the sports car.

She looks about 2 inches taller than me and is wearing a tight silver dress showing her slim waist, peach butt, and long legs. The 10cm heels on her feet hit a regular note with the steps, carrying their owner to me.

"Miss, did you just call me a thief?" I ask her, staring at her sunglasses.

"Yeah, that's you! How dare you, a hillbilly from a small rural pack, steal my cat!" Nasty, rude words come out of the woman's thick lips. She takes off her sunglasses and reveals her pale blue eyes.

I finally recognize who this woman is. She is the one who held Ethan in the photo of Ethan that Mr. Bates showed me.

"I didn't steal Ethan, and he's Mr. Clapton's cat, not yours," I say.

"Ethan? Mr. Clapton? How dare you name that cat 'Ethan'? You shameless woman. Do you know who I am?" The woman's index finger points at my nose with a shiny nail patch.

"I don't know who you are, and I'm not interested in it. Also, I haven't told you my address, and you've violated my privacy. I can always call the cops." I say, raising my eyebrows. She is probably the daughter of an Alpha of some rich pack. But for the Moon God's sake, I really don't wanna find out anything about this snooty she-wolf.

She grunts and smiles at me with contempt again as if she doesn't care if I call the cops.

"Look, if I'm right, you're the one who abandoned Ethan next to the dumpster. If you have a problem with me keeping Ethan, please contact Mr. Clapton, as he has appointed me to be his pet sitter. l will never give you Ethan."

I turn around, clutching my shopping bag, and go back to my apartment, ignoring the woman.

"Stop! I haven't allowed you to leave." The woman yells at me hysterically.

I pretend not to hear and push the door of the apartment. Surprisingly, she chases after me.

"Do you think you can become a princess from Cinderella by attracting Ethan's attention? He's mine. No one can ever take anything away from me, including what I don't want." She grabs my arm with such force that I can't help but suck in a breath.

"What?" Cinderella becomes a princess? I raise my eyebrows and listen to her ridiculous words. As a result, she goes crazy and rips the shopping paper bag in my arms. The floor is a mess as all the food in the shopping bag falls to the ground, including the carton of organic eggs I bought for Ethan.

"Are you crazy? What the hell do you want?" I ask, glaring at her, clenching my fists and gritting my teeth. I've never hit anyone before, and this woman is the first one I wish to slap.

However, I don't want to get into trouble. I take a deep breath, try to suppress my anger, and squat down to check if the eggs in the carton are intact.

"Organic? Oh, you poor girl from the countryside can actually afford all these organic foods?" The woman growls and taunts me after seeing the food packaging on the floor.

I don't answer her and reach out to pick up the organic chicken thighs landing next to her silver high heels.

Ouch!

As the 10cm heel steps on the back of my left hand, the pain hits my heart and causes my stomach to churn. Tears instantly fill my eyes. I fall to my knees and scream in pain, but the maniac steps harder.

The hairs on the back are prickle. Every cell and drop of blood in my body is encouraging me to shift and chew this woman immediately, even though city regulations prohibit shifters from shifting and fighting in public places in residential areas.

"Get off me!" I grit my teeth, warning the woman not to continue to infuriate me.

"Return the cat to me. Leave Ethan!" she stomps harder on my hand's back, the damn heel already piercing my skin. Blood is running down from my hand back.

I endure the pain, hold up the carton of eggs in my right hand, and press them hard against her stomach, soiling her skirt. It is the only way I can save my left hand.

"Oh, gosh! My couture dress! How damn dare you!?" She takes a few steps back, finally taking her heels off the back of my bloody hand.

I hold a tomato in my right hand. I swear, I would have thrown the tomato to her face if this lunatic had to approach me again.

"You lowly slut!" She curses me horribly and raises her arms again. Her aim is my neck.

"Camilla, what are you doing?"

A familiar voice comes from the doorway of the apartment building, and the woman opposite stops moving her hands. Almost simultaneously, she and I turn to the man who enters through the door.

It is Mr. Clapton.

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