Squirrel Shifter

Riven

“You’re fired, Riven.”
My boss stared into the camera with that dead-eyed intensity that always made me want to bolt. Didn’t matter that we were on a video call—talking to him had always been a struggle.

I managed to unstick my jaw long enough to respond.
“Fired? Why?” I sounded way calmer than I felt. “I’ve hit all my projections for the last year.”
I already knew that wasn’t the issue.

He nodded. “You have—and I agree your work is good. However, every one of your assignments is finished at the last possible moment.” He said this completely oblivious to my wince. “But that’s not really the reason we’re letting you go.”

My shock shifted into confused frustration.
“Then why? I’m one of the best programmers in this field.”
Uncertainty crawled through me. It didn’t take much. Being a squirrel shifter made executive conversations… tricky. Not that he knew that.

He sighed, clearly done. “Look, Riven, you’re a good guy, so I’ll be honest. The team struggles to get along with you. You’re either at a hundred percent or off in your own world. I’m sure you’ll land on your feet. HR will send your severance information.”
And before I could get another word in, he clicked End Call.

“...Shit.”
I stared at the “Call Ended” screen mocking me. Fifth team to let me go. And I had no idea what the hell to do now.

I looked around my apartment—everything perfectly organized, everything in its place. Keeping my space spotless helped keep me from spiraling into distractions or hyperfocusing on things that didn’t matter.

With a sigh, I sent a text to the one person who might help.

Got fired

Simple. To the point. And effective—my phone rang less than a second later.

“Those fucking assholes!”
My ‘twin’ sister’s voice blasted through the speaker. Squirrel shifters often had multiple “twins” since we were all born at the same time, though almost always fraternal. Sara, my self-proclaimed “oldest sister,” was one of four—including me—and she was my polar opposite.

“Well, hello to you too, Sara,” I said, smirking at her outrage.

Something clattered in the background—probably something thrown. She’d been a chef for years, and at a pretty high status, though I didn’t fully get the whole hierarchy. All that mattered was supporting her.

“Oh, don’t give me that shit, Riven! I am so sick of people not appreciating how horribly amazing you are!” she snapped, still fired up.

“Thanks, Sis. I appreciate that.”
My chest eased a little. Some of the tight anxiety from the last hour finally started to loosen.

She exhaled loudly, clearly trying to calm herself. “So what are you going to do now?”

I sighed. “Honestly? I don’t know. I’m so sick of this. I try my best, and people just don’t relate. I get that they don’t know I’m a shifter, but… it’s getting worse. I don’t know if I can stay in California.”

“You want to leave? You worked so hard.”
Her voice softened in that way only a sister’s can when she knows something is breaking you.

“I know.”
I looked around at everything I’d built here. Major projects. A master’s degree. Years of work. “But I don’t see the point. This is just going to keep happening.”

She hesitated. “Will you go back to Mom and Dad’s?”

I recoiled. “No. I am not moving back to small-town Nebraska.”
Sharper than I meant.
“Sorry. It’s just… a lot.”

“I know. I get it.”
Then she let out the highest shriek I’d ever heard.

I jerked the phone away from my ear. My sensitive hearing was not built for that.
“What?!”

“Move here!” she blurted.

“What?”
“Move here. To Luna City.”

Luna City—a massive hidden city humans didn’t even know existed, tucked between North America and Canada.

“Yes, yes, yes!” she said, loud—again. “It would be perfect!”

“Where would I live? Or work?”
Not that I was worried about money. My jobs paid well, and my investments were solid. But if I sat around all day, I’d go nuts—and not the good, squirrel-approved kind.

She squealed another excited sound. “It’s perfect! You can stay with me. Neither of us has mates, and I have a spare room!”

I sighed, already feeling myself losing this fight.

She paused, thinking hard. “You know… I think the police are hiring for something… computery.”

I burst out laughing. “Computery? That’s all you’ve got?”
But a new feeling—openness, possibility—filled my lungs.

After a long moment, I took a breath.
“Alright.”

“Alright?” she repeated, stunned. “Alright?” She sounded overjoyed.

I could practically see her fist pumping in the air.
“Yeah,” I said, smiling. “Screw it.”

***

Three Months Later

Well, the job had definitely been “computery.”
What my sister had failed to explain—or understand—was that this was a computer forensics position. Absolutely nothing like anything I’d ever done before. Still… something about it intrigued me.

I’d passed the interviews with flying colors. The only condition for getting hired was finishing my BA in forensic computer science. I only had three classes left, so they were letting me tour the workplace and meet the guy I’d be replacing.

“So, this is the area you’d be working in,” Jess said as she guided me through the narrow hallway. She’d handled my interview. I didn’t find out until later that she was an elk shifter.

We stepped into a small room about half the size of a classroom.
“It’s a little small,” I said, looking around.

“That’s the least of your worries, young one,” a gravelly voice said from the far end of the room.

I blinked, then finally spotted the old man seated behind a wall of humming equipment—computers stacked like some ancient technological shrine. That was probably the part I should worry about.

Before I could think too hard, the voice added, “The space only feels small.”

The old man shuffled closer. He was short, though maybe that was just age shrinking him down. His hair and beard were both a stormy grey. He looked older than the creation of computers themselves—which was entirely possible. Shifters often lived well over a hundred and fifty years.

“This is William,” Jess said. “You’ll be training with him and eventually replacing him next year when he retires. William, be nice to Riven.”

“Only if he stops staring like I’m a shiny object,” William grumbled, raising a bushy eyebrow at me. “Yes, I’m that old.”

“William! We have talked about discriminatory comments. Do not make me go to HR again,” Jess scolded, exasperated—like she’d had to say that a few times before.

He waved her off. “Come on, young man.”

“Sorry about staring,” I muttered. I hadn’t realized I’d gone quiet this whole time.

He waved me off too. “It’s fine. I learned a long time ago that if you freak out the small-creature shifters a little at first, they warm up quicker.”

Honestly… he wasn’t wrong. Some of my best relationships had started with someone being way too over-the-top.
I blamed my sister.

We spent the next two hours going over everything—procedures, cataloging systems, intake processes, evidence tracking. He showed me how to bring in devices, log them, secure them, and follow the chain-of-custody systems.

I loved it.

I’d always had a bit of compulsive organization, mostly to help manage my “squirrel brain.” Without structure, I was easily distracted. But here? I already had ideas for improvements. I’m not the type to barge in and change everything right away, but I could see the system forming in my head.

William himself was… interesting. I didn’t warm up to him instantly, but he didn’t seem bothered by that. He’d lived through the birth of computers and watched them become everyday tools. The funniest part? He only got into this field a few decades ago because one of his grandkids bet he couldn’t learn it.

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say to William.

Back at my apartment, I barely sat down before Sara called.

“So? What’d you think?” she asked, hope thick in her voice.

“I love it,” I said honestly. “It’s nothing like the work I used to do, and the pay isn’t anywhere near what I made, but… I think it’ll work out.”

“That’s great!” she squealed, then switched to a mock pout. “You still couldn’t wait to move out until you got the job?”

I had lasted a grand total of twenty-nine days in her apartment before getting my own place. I loved her, but… she did not keep the same kind of organization I did.

“Yeah, no,” I said, laughing for the first time in a while. “I was going nuts. Can you please put your laundry away for god’s sake?”

“Never! The laundry will never be put away—now just to spite you.”
Then, in a teasing sing-song: “Sooo… did you find your mate?”

I rolled my eyes. “No. And you know the rule—if you bring up mates with me, it goes both ways.” Our parents had been on our backs about finding mates for years, but I’d never really looked. “Besides, most of the police station is full of predators. I highly doubt my mate is there.”

Most of the old predator-versus-prey discrimination had faded over the last century, but the physical instincts definitely stuck around. If you shifted into something big and mean, odds were you were big and maybe a little mean.

“Okay, okay, I’ll back off,” she sighed. “I’m just hoping you find a mate so Mom will leave me alone.”

I could practically hear her hands going up in surrender.

“Yeah… not going to happen,” I said.
And I wasn’t sure if I meant them stopping—or me actually finding a mate.

One Year Later

I stared at the screen that had been loading for two days straight. The recovery software finally ticked up to ninety-nine percent. This case was from some genius who’d tried to destroy evidence by pouring water into their powered-on computer.
Would that work?
Probably not.

I rolled my chair back and glanced around the room. Six stations now lined the far wall—four more than when I’d first started. William turned out to be a fantastic mentor, but it had become painfully obvious over the last year that he’d slowed down. Age had finally caught up with his hands. Even typing seemed to bother his wrists.

Fortunately for me, I didn’t have that issue yet, and I’d finally managed to clear the entire backlog of cases.

Ding.

The recovery completed at eighty percent.

“Remember, folks—water doesn’t delete things,” I said, chuckling to myself.
There was a lot of alone time in this job, which I was discovering I didn’t mind. Honestly, I had no idea why I was surprised I’d gotten fired from my last job. Endless meetings and unnecessary social interaction had always been a struggle.

A knock sounded on the cage door.

I’d asked for this door specifically—a solid door with a secondary metal-mesh “conversation panel” built in. It made the place feel less claustrophobic and let me see who was visiting.

I looked up to see James, a panther shifter from SCU—Special Crimes Unit. I hated when they came by. Not because I disliked James (though his inner predator sometimes made the hair on my neck stand up), but because I hated the reason they needed me. Their cases always made me want to help more than I realistically could.

“Got another one for you,” James said, lifting a laptop sealed in an evidence bag.

I sighed and walked over. “Another one? You’ve got to be kidding me.” I lifted the pass-through gate and grabbed the forms.

He chuckled. “What can I say? I’m just that good.”

“Right. And I’m a shark.” I deadpanned. “This is your fourth one this week.”

“Yeah, seems like the creeps are multiplying. At least in a shifter city nothing happens with kids.” He shrugged.

A shiver ran down my spine. “Thank the gods for that.”
Shifters were incapable of harming children—genetically, instinctively, fundamentally. Every one of us was built to protect them.

I went over the paperwork, confirmed everything, and stored the device in its proper place. “I’ll have this done in a day or two.”

“Thanks, Riven.”
And just like that, he was gone. Predators rarely stuck around to chat. Whether it was because I wasted their time or because they could tell I got twitchy around them… Hard to say.

I turned back to the previous recovery case and sent the suspicious files to SCU. Thankfully, I didn’t have to go through them manually.

Ding.

My work computer chimed with a new email.

I hummed and clicked it open—then nearly choked.

**Please assist with resetting my password. I have been locked out all day and need access now.

Alpha/Chief
Mira Silvers**

I had never met the Alpha. And I wasn’t in any rush to.
I debated what to say, whether to respond or just forward it to IT.
Then decided: both. Because if I didn’t, she’d just do it again.

I typed:

Good morning, Alpha.
This is the Cyber Department—we do not have the ability to reset passwords. An IT ticket is required for password resets.
If there is anything else I can assist with, please let me know.

—Computer Forensics
Riven Nighthop

“There,” I muttered, hitting send and turning back to my work.

Ding.

Another email.
I turned back, read it—and my jaw dropped.

That is not what I asked you. I need my computer password reset, and it needs to be done now. I don’t care what your job is. This takes priority.

“What the hell…”
I read it three times. I was about to type a response when IT emailed me saying they were handling it.

I sighed and turned back around.
“Freaking asshole,” I muttered.

I needed to vent.

I texted William:

You’re not going to believe this.

His response came instantly:

You found a nut?

I laughed. The old man was probably the only real friend I’d made out here… Which was weird, but he was good people—under all the bark.

No. The Alpha emailed me trying to get a password reset.

He replied with a string of crying-laughing emojis.
The bastard.

Want to get a beer at that Irish pub you like?

You buying?

Cheap bastard.

Yes, I’ll buy. See you around six?

He sent nothing but a thumbs-up.

I finished up the last of my work so I could get out of there for the day.

***

William had laughed through the entire story about the emails—not that there was much to tell. For some reason, I always enjoyed making him laugh. He laughed like it might be his last time every single time.

“So that’s what’s got your tail all bent out of shape? One or two emails?” he said, finally catching his breath and taking a long pull from his beer.

I sighed. He was probably right. It was silly, and I’d realized afterward that I’d let it bother me way more than it should have.
“You’re right. I don’t know why it got under my skin so much. I haven’t even met him.”

William raised a brow. “Her.”

“Her?” I echoed.

He shook his head, chuckling. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but the Alpha is a her.” His cocky old-man grin made it even more smug.

“Him, her—honestly, that’s not the point. I shouldn’t have assumed, but that doesn’t give her the right to be rude to an employee she’s never even met.” I said, guilt mixing with irritation.

He shrugged. “She’s an Alpha. Even with how far we’ve come as humans, instincts still matter—leadership, hierarchy, respect. Especially for wolves.”

I sighed again. “I know. I just hope it doesn’t happen again.”
I took a drink from my beer. I wasn’t a big drinker—one or two was usually my limit. I definitely wasn’t a wolf or a bear downing pitchers like water.

William laughed. “Considering it happened once, it’ll happen again.”
Then he added with a wink, “Don’t worry. If she bites, you can hide behind me. I’m old, but I make a great shield.”

That made me laugh as he lifted an imaginary cane and shook it threateningly.

His grin softened, the deep lines around his eyes easing. “Kid, people in power forget the little gears that keep their shiny machine running. Doesn’t make it right, but it’s not on you. Don’t let someone else’s bad day ruin yours.”

I smiled. William always knew what to say. Some of it came from decades of doing work like mine. Another part probably came from his time in the army—though he never talked about that.

After a while, William stood up. “Alright, time for me to head to bed. These old bones won’t rest themselves.”

I nodded. “Have a good night.”

He paused, then asked, “By the way, have you noticed an increase in cases recently?”

I blinked. He never asked about work.
“An increase from SCU, but that’s it. Why?”

“No reason. City just seems more dangerous lately,” he said, shrugging into his jacket. But I could see something else behind his eyes—concern he wasn’t voicing. “Take care, young lad.”

He didn’t wait for my reply. He rarely did.

The pub door chimed softly as he stepped out into the night.

I took a long drink of my beer and watched the bubbles rise in the amber glass. Something about the way he’d said it—like he’d been watching the city shift beneath us—settled uneasily in my stomach.

Had the city gotten more dangerous?

I wasn’t sure. But the hairs on the back of my neck twitched, instinct warning me that something was changing… and not for the better.

Mira

“God dammit!” I slammed my hands onto the desk, the heavy wood creaking under the force. “Why the hell is my password not working?”

Not that it was the computer’s fault. It hadn’t forgotten my password—I apparently had. Again. But I didn’t have time for this shit.

Jess stepped cautiously into the doorway. I could tell she was fighting the instinct to shake under the Alpha-level fury I was radiating.

“Is… everything alright?” she asked, impressively steady for someone facing an irritated wolf Alpha. Elk shifters were strong in their own right, but I was still an Alpha.

I took a calming breath on purpose, and the moment I did, Jess relaxed.

“Yes. Other than my password not working,” I muttered. “And I have a video call with my brother and the Attorney General in fifteen minutes.”

“Do you want me to put in an IT ticket for you?” she asked. Jess had been my secretary—almost a friend—for nearly twenty years. I had no idea how I would function without her.

“No, I’ll message them. I can’t have my dear brother the Mayor waiting.” I rolled my eyes.

My brother had become Mayor after our father was removed from power. Everything our father touched rotted. Instead of tearing the city apart fighting over leadership, we’d split duties—he became Alpha of the city, and I became Alpha of the police. It was meant to keep peace. Mostly, it just meant we bickered professionally instead of personally.

“Alright, let me know if you need anything,” Jess said softly.

“Thank you, Jess.” She gave me a nod and left.

I pulled out my phone and opened the company messaging system. Easy enough to use. I typed a quick message to IT.

My password isn't working again. Can you reset it? I need access now.

—Chief

A moment later:

You need to put in an IT ticket.

—Riven CF

I stared at the message, confused and immediately annoyed.

That was twice now someone in this department had snapped back for no reason. Jess needed to start screening these people better.

No. This needs to happen now. I don’t have time for an IT ticket.

—Chief

You will need to reach out to IT then. I do not have the ability to do that.

—Riven CF

My jaw clenched. My thumb was hitting the screen hard enough I was surprised it didn’t crack.

What do you mean you don’t have the ability? You work with computers, don’t you?

—Chief

Another reply popped up:

IT has that ability. I do not.

—Riven CF

Useless.

Why did everything with these damn computers have to be so complicated? Why couldn’t I just press a button and have it work? I wasn’t amazing with tech, sure, but I wasn’t a complete idiot either. This was why I preferred being in the field—investigating, patrolling, doing something—instead of being chained to a desk.

I was about to fire back another message when a notification popped up.

Temporary password: yX6!5z3tP9@

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” I muttered.

That wasn’t a password—that was a punishment.

It only took two attempts to get it right, which was honestly a personal victory. Once I reset it, I joined the meeting already in progress.

“You’re late,” my brother said in his authoritative Mayor voice. It made me roll my eyes every time.

“Computer trouble,” I said, both greeting and excuse in one.

His Beta—some nasal man he’d inexplicably chosen—chimed in.

“We all have those moments.”

“Thanks, Travis,” I said dryly. Of course his name was Travis. “Can we get this meeting going now, Colt?”

“Yes. No time to waste.” Colt looked between us. “We need to talk about the increase in missing persons. We’re up to twenty in the last three months. I know it’s only a six percent increase, but it feels like too many.”

“Anyone going missing is too many,” I snapped, not meaning to sound quite so sharp. But he needed to understand—I was already on this. “I know you’re worried, but I’ve got my best people on it.”

He nodded. “Alright. Keep me updated. Travis, you can log off.”

Once Travis disconnected, Colt’s posture softened. He shifted from Mayor to brother. “How are you holding up?”

I hated this part.

He was only asking because I’d lost my partner. Adam had been with me since I joined the force—every day, every case.

“I’m fine. Same as always.”

“Look, you’re strong. I know that. But you can’t do everything alone. The police may be yours, but they’re a team. Your team.”

I sighed. “I know. Don’t go getting all brotherly on me,” I said with a smirk. Talking to him was always strange—the brother I loved tangled up with the Mayor I couldn’t stand.

“Have you talked to Mom recently?” he asked, and I immediately knew why.

I scoffed. “No. And I’d prefer not to hear another lecture about having pups.”

He laughed, loud and full of life. “Yeah, me too. It’s all she talks about.”

“Alright, I’m running away from this conversation now,” I said, smirking.

“Fair enough. Be safe, Mira.” He ended the call.

I barely had time to breathe before both of my Betas—James and Eric—entered. James ran SCU now; he’d been homicide before that. Eric had taken over homicide after James moved units.

“What can we do for you, Alpha?” James asked, a bit too casually.

I raised an eyebrow. He immediately straightened.

“Double the search areas on the missing cases, and have patrol increase coverage city-wide,” I ordered firmly.

Both nodded and left.

I stared at the computer again like it was evil incarnate.

There were piles of reports waiting for me, but all I wanted was to get back out there and do something useful.