The last few days left him with some thinking to do. About how random circumstances led him to this point—turning into a rat shifter, running for his life, scaring his mother and sister sick, putting his sister at death’s doorstep, and unleashing a yet unknown hell on the city.
It was his fault.
Well, not really. He didn’t bear the burden of guilt. Sometimes, you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time. And sometimes, s**t happens. Chicago practically invented that slogan.
He opened the window in Becca’s living room, ushering in a nice breeze, and transformed into a rat.
He climbed out onto the window sill and dug his claws into a downspout next to the window, pawing up it quickly, up one story to the roof. The green turret directly over Becca’s apartment had a nice ledge that was perf
