Their Human Mate

Starting Over

Ember

I was far enough into Miami to take a pause. I parked behind a Walmart I spotted, far away from any other people. I was alone. My mom was dead at the very hands of my boyfriend. He must have been a real monster, the way her body was left in pieces like that. All the blood. The f*****g blood. I put my hands and my head on the steering wheel. I should never have accepted that damn job in the first place. I probably would have been killed eventually, but that would have been a hell of a lot better than seeing my mother’s body in pieces. No one should have to see that.

I know Ryder would be looking to blame me for all of this. I know his ways. Blame others for the love he lost. The reason I was ever attracted to him, I will never know. My heart is so broken. f*****g broken. But now is not the time for mourning. My mom didn’t raise a weak woman who cried around all day. I will mourn her when I get that chance, but first things first. I need to find a home.

I took the phone Lamonte gave me and did a Google search for available apartments. Jesus f*****g Christ. These apartments were almost three grand a month. For someone like me, living alone, that definitely did not suit me at all. I opened the bag of stuff he gave me. There was almost fifty grand in cash, a gun, some fake IDs, a fake birth certificate, and a social security card. They had my picture and first name, but the last name had been changed to Stafford. From now on, I would be Ember Stafford. I realized what Lamonte was trying to do. New name. New alias. I was glad I could keep my first name at least. I could afford the three-grand apartments if I got the job, but on the chance that I didn’t, I searched for something cheaper.

I found a studio apartment for about two grand, plus utilities. That was perfect for me. I GPS’d the address and made my way there. Miami was beautiful, but I couldn’t appreciate it — not with everything that had just happened. Lamonte’s death flashed before my eyes. He had called Ryder “alpha.” What the f**k was that about? Doing my best to clear my head, I drove and blasted music to drown out my thoughts. I called the landlord to let him know I would be paying a year’s worth of rent upfront. The man on the phone was definitely not about to pass up twenty-four thousand dollars at once.

When I got there, he was on the steps waiting with keys in hand. He was a chubby fellow with a stubble beard, rough-looking hands, and brown eyes. His age was written in his salt and pepper hair. He had to be at least 50.

“Ember Stafford,” he said when I arrived. He took a look at my busted window. I stepped in front of it to block his view. I reached out my hand to greet him, but he didn’t take it.

“You must be Riley Morris,” I said, and he nodded.

“You have the money?” he said. I handed him the bills. He handed me the contract, which I read over. It stated no refunds and was only a contract for a year.

“Do you need my ID and everything?” I asked him.

“Nah, any pretty girl like you willing to pay a year’s worth of rent upfront must be running from something or someone. Keep this property free of your issues, girl. You will be responsible for any damage not caused by the building,” he said, glancing at the window again.

“Yes sir. Thank you, sir,” I said. He gave me my keys before getting into his car.

“My number is on the door, should you need anything else,” he said, with a look in his eye that reminded me of my old manager. Considering I’d paid him for a whole year upfront, that should keep him at a distance for some time.

I went inside the building after he drove off. The apartments were at least four stories high. There was an elevator, but it was out of service, so I had to take the stairs. Thankfully, I didn’t have much with me outside of my bag, and my studio was only on the third floor. I found my room with ease. I had seen the place in the photos, but it really was quite comfortable. It looked like the previous tenants were in a rush to leave, because they had left all of their nice dark blue furniture behind. I didn’t mind. It saved me the trouble of buying it myself. The walls were white, trimmed with a dark blue line that matched the sofa chairs. There was a dark blue, white, and green rug spread over the entire living room, with a glass coffee table in the middle. A 72-inch TV hung from the wall. The curtains were pulled back, overlooking the beach. For a cheap studio apartment, this was actually quite nice.

The kitchen was small but nice, with a tan marble countertop and matching cabinets. The stove was electric. The refrigerator was not as big as I was used to, but it was my height, with a small freezer at the top. The bathroom was black and white — almost a checkerboard design. I turned on the water and it seemed to be working fine. The bathtub was not as big as the shower, but I was okay with that. It was just going to be me, and I was going to take what I could get.

The bedroom was empty — just a white room with blue trim. I would have to set it up, but I was fine with that. I tied my hair up in a ponytail and went back to my car. Luckily, I was in a busy area of Miami, so finding a nearby Walmart was easy. I went shopping. I bought a green dot card and loaded the rest of my cash onto it. Prepaid cards were not really traceable, and Ryder would not find me since my fake social security was tied to the new Ember Stafford.

I went shopping for a bed and paid one of the Walmart employees extra to come to my apartment and help move it in. He was a young man on his lunch break and was happy to make some extra cash. I also bought food, kitchen supplies, and decorations for the bedroom and bathroom. After everything was set up, I was beat. I sat on the bed, looking out the window while eating some stir fry. This is my life now. Ember Stafford. Graduate of Georgia University of the Culinary Arts with a bachelor’s degree. My fake resume had everything I had ever actually accomplished on it, just tied to a different school. It even had references — probably Lamonte’s friends, who would verify I was who I said I was.

I looked down at the greasy food and lost my appetite. Putting it on the nightstand, I wrapped myself in my blanket and cried. I cried for a very long time, until sleep wrapped her arms around me.