"Are you vampires?" I asked him, wondering what trap I had fallen into.

"We can't hide anything from you!" He replies, amused. "It's Stéphane Veroni, and in case you didn't recognize me, I'm Nigel Caliene." He looks confident, like no one in the world could possibly not know who they are, let alone swoon over them. Pissed off by their dumb duo, I shrug my shoulders, staring at him sarcastically, oblivious to caution. "Because you are known?" He looks at me speechless, while the other bursts out laughing at his annoyed face. The blond, a priori offended, swells before resuming with disdain. "I am the most prominent model of this century!" I'm one of the richest vampires in New York! The whole world is snapping up our brand! Not to mention that Stéphane is one of the greatest CEOs in New York; he makes the cover of the most popular magazines! I look at him blankly. "And what interests me in my everyday life?" He stares at me with his round eyes, completely hallucinated, opening his mouth like a fish out of water. The situation is not progressing; worse, the other vampire extends his hand to take my wrist with the head of the flirt, who thinks he is holding prey. I'm losing patience. I'm a delivery girl; I'm here to work, not to support heavy loads. The longer I stay still, the more they feel like they can do whatever they want. Acting instinctively, I grab the thumb that was brushing the skin of my fingers and pull it violently back. The vampire's eyes widen in surprise as I push further and further until he drops to one knee. I see a lot of incomprehension in his eyes, as if he were much more surprised that the mouse was attacking the snake than he was embarrassed by the pain. Shocked, his friend rushes towards us. Not daring to break my grip, however, he simply gesticulates unnecessarily with growing annoyance, while the one in my grasp doesn't budge an eyelid, staring at me. "You are a crazy child!" The blond exclaims furiously, "You're risking your life! Do you even know who you're attacking? He is the blood prince of New York!" "In case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't give a damn! What I do know is that throwing pheromones in front of someone who doesn't consent is considered hunting! You risk much more than me on this one!" I release my grip as the two vampires look at me dumbfounded. For my part, I try to keep a straight face, while I do not really know if the police will come to rescue me here. Taking advantage of the fact that they are flabbergasted that someone dares to stand up to them, I again hand my tablet to the brunette, who is still on his knees on the ground. "Please sign!"" I ordered him, hoping it would take him some time to recover. Blinking, still stunned, big, junk Veroni grabs the stylus and scribbles on the screen. I then recover it with a quick gesture before pushing my cap with the image of my company on my skull. "Thank you for using Hermès Express," I tell them both, smiling while the vampire tycoon looks at me with wide, open eyes. "Do not hesitate to contact us for other orders."

Delivery person strategy: Remain professional in all circumstances. Always follow the rules. "However, be more polite next time!" I warned them, "Or you'll take my fist in the face! It will be more difficult to make the front page of magazines with a crooked nose and broken teeth!"

I then turn on my heels briskly, heading for the elevator as dignified and calm as possible while trying to move very fast. Once in the shelter, when the doors close, I lean against the wall, breathing hard as I run a hand through my long brown hair while trying to calm myself down. I was close to having a heart attack. I do not know vampires well, but a priori, prey breathing their pheromones are paralyzed. This is how they used to eat before the three races signed the pact. I did not go far from the disaster because I believe that the brunette wanted to make me his dinner. The doors suddenly opened on the ground floor, making me straighten up like a jack-in-the-box. I still have a lot of work ahead of me; I don't have time to feel sorry for myself. It's just a misadventure in my already hectic life. Once at the reception desk, I throw the badge to the outraged secretary, who recovers it in extreme fashion, almost falling from her chair. I sneer wickedly as I head for the exit without slowing down as she gets up, completely losing her temper and yelling at me. She is silent even before I walk through the door; her boss is coming to scold her for having disturbed the cozy atmosphere of the hall. Without wasting time, I get back on my bike while glancing at my tablet, which tells me that I have a package to pick up in another neighborhood. Jumping on the saddle, I only have a few pedal strokes to give to reintegrate myself into traffic, easily picking up a good rhythm. I'm glad to be able to get off the vampire side of Manhattan. An hour later, I managed to finish two more races before deciding that was enough for today. So I return to the depot, which is not very far from my last client. I'm putting my bike down when I meet Sam, an overexcited and always happy little blond. Seeing me, he calls out to me immediately with a big wave of his hand. "Hi beauty! The form?" "Yeah!" I said it tersely, hoping to end the conversation quickly. "It seems that you broke the race quota again today!" He continues admiringly, looking at the day's data on his tablet. After each vacation, our personal data is downloaded so as to be visible on the intranet. The idea is that we are all in competition because whoever makes the most journeys wins a bonus. Around me, I can feel the other couriers giving me acid sideways glances, annoyed that I'm once again winning the money for the day. I know that many of them dream at best of dethroning me and at worst of seeing me go under a truck. If they knew how their jealousies go over my head, I would have much more to do in my life than worry about what they think of me. "To tell the truth," I sneered, telling myself that they would be surprised to know what the employee of the day did to her clients during her session. While locking my bike, I wonder if the two vampires that I shocked will dare come and complain about my performance. "Do you still need money?" Sam yells at me, snapping me out of my reverie, and slips next to me, ignoring the angry looks around him. A real ray of sunshine, Sam is one of those people who socializes with anyone without being interested in what others think. He is one of the few people with whom I speak a little. "I always need money!" I blurted it out, shrugging my shoulders.

I have not yet reached my goal of being able to start a new life in Canada. There is a certain amount of background required to apply for a visa, especially when, like me, you stopped school at 14 years old. As I put my gloves back in my backpack, he proudly handed me a poster of a vampiric center. "You have an Olympic shape; you don't smoke; you don't drink!" He told me it was a feat. Maybe you could go to this center; it pays well for good-quality blood! See, even you could find yourself a regular! I groan looking at him. I have heard of this kind of center before. It seems that you can make a lot of money by giving your blood voluntarily to bloodsuckers, with the juiciest plan being to find a regular. Rumor has it that every human has a different taste; if you find a vampire who likes your "scent," you can extort money from them as long as they drink from your jugular. However, if I am ready to do many things for money, I refuse to sell my body in any form. If I omit the fact that I won't trust the bloodsucker to release me until he has completely devoured me, I am not a commodity, and I will never be one! Only my job brings me money. Besides, I have another waiting for me. "Forget it," I tell him, pushing back the flyers he always hands me. That kind of thing doesn't mean anything to me! Besides, I'm busy... After making sure my bike is properly hooked up, I turn to him to finish our conversation, but our manager calls him. Sam waves goodbye, knowing it's been a while, as I'm already leaving the depot to catch the bus back to the Bronx. I allow myself a 30-minute nap and roll into a ball on a bench before getting off at my stop. I work at a bar. Nothing very glamorous; I simply clean the floor and the toilets while taking care of supplying the drinks. It just gives me a little boost to reach my goal faster. In addition to his two regular jobs, I also do a few extras here and there. I have become a master of the art of finding good deals. Fixing something for one, running an errand for the other—I do whatever makes me some money, even if sometimes it takes me to unsavory places. Moreover, the meeting with the two vampires was neither the first nor the worst of my experiences. However, I wondered for a long time about the ease with which I made the brunette bend his knees. Then, like every time my situation gets out of hand, I push it all to the back of my mind, moving on to something else to survive another day. It's almost two in the morning when I get home. A small studio in which I live alone. The description is "cocooning" to avoid saying that I live in a postage stamp. This is not a problem for me; the rent is very low, not to mention that I only need a corner to sleep in and a place to store my meager possessions anyway. Moreover, I have hardly set foot inside since I retrieved a bag of kibble and a can of water in a corner before returning to the park next to my house. It's the only thing I do that doesn't make me money. It's my personal pleasure. I take the bowls that I hide in a bush when my companions, alerted by the noise, come out everywhere. They are abandoned or runaway dogs; there are big ones, small ones, old ones, young ones... I see in their eyes all the harm that the three species have done to them. I just try to appease them a bit by giving them food, drink, and some affection. I pour the croquettes while the hungriest do not wait and throw themselves on them. I don't worry; I always have enough to eat for everyone. When they're all enjoying their meals, I catch the most gluttonous ones, petting them so others can eat. I soon find myself buried under the dogs, searching for my greatest happiness. I waited a long time because it's been several days since I had a new companion who is a little shy. However, I only saw him from a distance. He still doesn't trust me enough, even if he comes closer and closer. I think it is a very large model; however, it is so discreet that I am not sure. For the moment, I leave him bowls available when he leaves, hoping that he eats them. As it comes quite late, I wait while stroking my "regulars." This time I would really like it to approach. The bushes move on my left, making me flinch. I try to look calm and detached, but the pack around me has already changed its behavior. Some have pulled away a bit, while others are laying their ears down and flattening out, proof that my new friend is dominant. I said nothing for fear of seeing him leave. I'm not afraid to let him approach without having seen her; I'm not frightened by dogs, and I know that as long as I give him the possibility of fleeing, he has no reason to attack me. Sitting on the floor, I take a deep breath, waiting for him to be ready to show himself. After a long time, all my friends stepped back to make room for him. Surprised, I see him come out of the bushes in front of me, hobbling with his head down. I knew it would be big, but not exactly how big! When he walks around me to smell me better, his shadow completely covers me. I believe it must be the size of a small pony. I had never seen such a huge dog before. However, despite his imposing size, he seems to have had a difficult life. Its fur is as dull as moth-eaten, while its sides and thighs are streaked with scars. He can barely stand on his feet, and he must not have eaten his fill for quite a while either. At the same time, I'm going to need several packets of kibble if I want to succeed in filling him up.

He suddenly sits down in front of me, lowering his head a little more to get level with my eyes. Her steel blue irises make me miss several heartbeats. I feel like I could stay like this for hours. I have the hairs that are straightening.

Without letting go of my gaze, he walks a little further before laying his head on my thighs with a sigh of exhaustion. As delicately as possible, I reach my hand towards his muzzle so that he feels it, then I slide it over his skull. He softened at my touch before lying on his side, totally relaxed as he looked truly exhausted.

I vaguely wonder what breed of dog it is. I know some Tibetan Mastiffs are really huge. I know more than one man in New York who hopes to cross with them and Bullmastiffs to succeed in having a large, impressive fighting dog. I may have one of his specimens in my hands.

In any case, wherever he comes from, he is really in a bad state!

I don't want to leave it like that, but I wonder what leeway I have. It doesn't have a format that allows me to carry it under my arm.

I decide to give it a shot, slowly getting up as he looks at me. With a paw as big as my arm, he tries to hold me to the ground, but he lacks strength. I pull away easily, stepping back to pull him in, hoping I can get him home to safety.

"Come on, my little wolf…"

I hold out my hand so that he can feel it; seeing that he stretches his neck as expected and gets up, I get my can and my empty bag, then I shift a little further back. At first he hesitates, then he advances slowly with a difficult gait. Leaving the park, he limps at my height, leaning against me so as not to waver.

His back is almost below my shoulder, and he's heavy, but I end up bringing him home.

Once down, it crashes to the ground, taking up all the space left after my mattress. I have to step over it to move around. He remains surprisingly calm and stoic. Which means that he has already lived in a house, despite his extraordinary size.

I shrug my shoulders; his story doesn't matter to me for the moment; he must first be treated. I squat next to him, showing him my hands so that he can feel the material that I went to look for to take care of his wounds. After a few sniffles, he rests his head on the ground, reassured, so I begin to work calmly. The wounds are fortunately not deep, but it looks like he fought against a bear... Or maybe just against a dog like him...

Once all his lacerations have been cleaned, I give him food again. He doesn't seem to have much of an appetite, so I thaw my leftover cheese pasta, to which I add gravy. It's not very balanced, but it really needs energy.

When he finally finishes swallowing the last noodle, it's four in the morning. With a sigh, I throw myself on my mattress, rolling myself into a ball to recover as much as possible during the last hour of sleep I have left.

A few minutes later, when the alarm clock rings, I growl, banging on it to silence it. As I try to get up, I feel my wolf around me as it has embedded itself on my mattress. His head weighs heavily on my waist as his warm body immobilizes my legs. I give him a small caress between the two eyes while he yawns. Then as I move, he shifts, letting me get up. I then go to the bathroom.

The reflection is not flattering: my emerald green eyes are surrounded by circles worthy of a panda, while I am terrifyingly pale. Hoping to give myself human form, I vigorously brush my brown mane in order to tie it in a high ponytail, and then I quickly go to the shower. I put on black jeans and a gray t-shirt before scampering towards the front door.

My wolf is standing, staring at me curiously. I see that his wounds have closed surprisingly well since a while ago; even his hair seems less dull. Maybe he just needed to eat. I'm a little hesitant to leave him at home, but he sticks his muzzle under my arm. I feel that he wants to go out, and then I don't want him to relieve himself here.

So I open the door wide for him, watching him cross it with a more alert step than the day before. Going down the stairs, he wanders off like a young puppy with his nose in the wind. It's rather pleasant to see him go so well so quickly; moreover, he is not risking much at this hour. I watch him disappear around the corner as the bus arrives. I climb inside, reassured about his condition. Maybe I'll see him again tonight, or maybe he'll have found another place to sleep. I don't always see my regulars, but to avoid having the bumblebee, I tell myself that it's because they found a good place to live and not because someone ran over them.

I sit on the bench as the bus restarts. Suddenly, a howl rings out that breaks my eardrums and my heart. The driver also heard it, but instead of stopping as I desperately asked him, he accelerated. I'm stuck in my seat.

I try to look through the window to see what happened; however, we have already turned the corner. Running ahead despite the rolling of the road, I again ask to stop the bus; however, the driver still doesn't listen to me. He's too terrified for that.

I watch the streets go by, my heart sinking. I may do well to get off at the next stop to return to my wolf. Was it hit by a car? There was no traffic on the road, though!

I'm still standing, clinging to the bus railing when my phone rings. I look at the screen while my heart crashes to the floor, I want to swing the device against the glass on my left. Yet I pick up because I know I have no choice. The voice of my father-in-law, Carlos, sounded on the other end of the line.

"You have money?"

"Yes…"

"Tonight, 9 p.m. at your house! Be on time!"

He hangs up. That filthy bastard!

I hate this man from the bottom of my heart. He's the one I'm trying to run away from with all my might: I'm not even sure that Canada is far enough from him. He turned my mother into a stripper before turning her into a call girl. His only dream is to do the same with me. He has made every day of my life a hell of fear and pain since my earliest childhood.

He must gather around him all the dregs of society, which feed on everything that the city can count as illegal and atrocious. All I can do to get him to leave me alone is give him the money he asks for raising me since I was.

I could hit him and break his teeth: he's barely taller than me and paunchy. Except no one says no to Carlos. I wouldn't have time to give him the slightest blow before his henchmen would kill me. I already tried to run away; unfortunately, it was the police who brought me back to him. It took me a good month to walk again after he beat me up.

I sit with my head down, trembling; I still fear encounters with this man. My wolf will have to fend for himself; I absolutely have to keep raising money, or he will end up having my skin.

I can hardly control my tears of rage, but I keep in mind that one day I will be free!

All day I dreaded the moment when I should return home. Between my possibly dying wolf and Carlos, I'm terrified of what I'll find...

Yet here I am.

I called the bar where I work to tell them that I wouldn't come, and I used the pretext of a medical appointment to stop my deliveries well before the usual time. Despite the slowness of the omnibus, I hope to arrive on time because I know that the longer my father-in-law waits, the more dangerous he becomes. I've seen her throw a man out of a window because he was two hours late. We are not disrespecting the "Padre" by making him wait.

Trembling, I get off the bus, looking around, fearing to see Carlos' henchmen disembark; however, I am alone. We even see a package flying off in the middle of the road, then getting tangled in the gates of a grocery store that has probably been closed since before I was born. The city is talking about a complete renovation of the block; in the meantime, if living with rats as big as cats doesn't scare you, rents are very affordable in this rundown human district.

I take this opportunity to try to see if there is the slightest trace of my wolf, looking for a stain of blood or hair, yet I see nothing. No one would have cleaned up here, so if he got into a crash, he hid further away. I would like to take the time to find it; however, I sorely miss it. Carlos sounded on edge on the phone; I'm afraid he's charging me for a bad day.

Hands shaking on my keys, I shuffle towards my studio. Arriving in the stairwell, I feel like my heart is going to explode as I hear noise from the upper floors. I feel a bit like a sheep that is going to go to a butcher's on its own. Climbing the stairs apprehensively, I barely reach the middle of the floor when I already see the mastiff head of Jerry, one of my father-in-law's minions. The man is covered in large scars obtained in clandestine fights, but it's his expressionless, inky stare that sends the chills down my spine. He wears, as usual, jeans and a tank top that show off his muscles and his tattoos while deliberately letting the butt of his gun protrude, as if he needed it to look dangerous.

I make my face impassive, advancing calmly so as not to tickle his desire to fight. Gritting my teeth, fearing a blow from behind, however, I continue towards the two other henchmen who are waiting for me near my door alongside Carlos.

I feel my stepfather's black eyes pierce me from where he is, so much so that I feel like a big cockroach that he is about to crush.

I force myself to look him straight in the eye while repeating to myself like a mantra that I'm not afraid.

"Approaches!" He orders me in his hoarse voice.

My heart is beating at a hundred kilometers an hour. I would like to run away, yet I walk as if I had nothing to fear. I don't want to give him the pleasure of seeing how much he terrifies me.

This is where I see lurking in the shadows of the corridor a large dark mass. My heart skips a beat when I meet the cold steel eyes of my wolf, a few meters behind my tormentors. He is lying on the ground, his chops raised, tense, ready to jump on them. It could be good news, only they are all armed, while he is injured. He's going to get himself killed, and I don't want him putting himself in danger for me.

With a wave of my hand, I try to drive him away discreetly. If I manage to attract his attention, he does not move an inch. Obsessed with my four-legged companion, I don't have time to watch, let alone protect myself, from the slap that throws me against the wall. I crash to the ground under the blow of Carlos, who looks at me with his usual grin.

"I already told you to hurry, you dirty female dog. When you present yourself to me, I have other things to do than wait for you in front of your door!" He said in his snarling voice, tapping the screen of his watch, which indicates 9:2 p.m. Anyway, nothing has ever entered your filthy piaf skull!

My eyes water as I realize that, having had a bad day, he probably came to let off steam. I don't feel sorry for myself though, concentrating on my wolf at whom I cast a pleading look, managing to stop him before he pounces. Taking advantage of my inattention, Jerry and one of his colleagues immobilize my arms, holding me on my knees on the ground, before putting a knife to my throat.

I tense up, trying to show a calm face. I'm too afraid that seeing my emotions, my four-legged friend will attack, probably getting killed trying to protect me. I must not make him feel that I am in danger. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him hesitate, groaning softly as I feel the floor shudder down to my knees. The henchman behind Carlos even begins to fidget as he looks around, feeling the vibrations too.

I take the floor to attract the latter's attention.

"Don't hit me, I have your money, Carlos!" I say in a voice hoarse with fear as the minion focuses on me again, excited by the desire to see the tickets. The amount you asked me!

My father-in-law sends me a backhand with his hand, so powerful that my own teeth cut into the inside of my cheek, causing me to bleed. I struggle to catch my breath as the shaking of the ground increases in intensity. However, I don't have time to really come to my senses before someone sticks a needle in my arm after taking the money envelope from the front pocket of my jacket.

Panicked, I quickly turn my head, watching them draw blood from me. Unable to get rid of my torturers, I see them connect a hose to the syringe quickly reddened by my vital liquid, which then empties into test tubes. Meanwhile, my stepfather walks up to me with a wicked smile planted on his thick lips.

"I don't care what you have to say, little female dog! Let me go; do as your mother lets you!"

I struggle, clenching my jaw as the tubes fill at breakneck speed. What does he intend to do? Has he decided to sell my organs? Eyes wide with terror from all the terrible scenarios going through my head, I finally open my mouth.

"What the hell do you want from me?" My voice is too high, but I'm on the verge of a panic attack.

He's watching me, like I'm a 5-year-old kid who just asked a stupid question.

"You're 19," he sighs, taking one of the tubes to look at it in the light, as if it were a ruby. "It's time you made me some real money."

Once their samples are done, Jerry releases me with a kick to the back. I finish on all fours in front of my father-in-law, who looks at me with a mixture of anger and amusement. I hate his smile; I wish I could tear it from his filthy rat face. However, all I can do is lie prostrate on the ground, hoping he tires before he kills me.

After a while, he ended up patting my cheek gently, as if he had an ounce of tenderness for me.

"Take care of yourself... until I come back!" He whispers to me with a hint of sadism in his voice.