Raphael (The Immortal Youth Book 1) by Monica La Porta

the—”
    His boot was crushed by the wolf forcefully pushing the door from the other side, but Raphael clenched his teeth and stood his ground. “Give me a chance to prove myself.”
    “Move. Out. Of. The. Way!” The bellow was loud enough to startle a few stray cats napping in the corner.
    The door was slammed against his boot three times in rapid succession making his eyes tear. He breathed through the piercing pain, then answered, “I. Won’t.”
    Obscene swearing accompanied another round of boot-bashing. Almost at the end of his physical endurance, Raphael willed his trembling leg still.
    The door was ripped opened and a furious wolf exploded out of it. The Red grabbed Raphael by the collar, then hit him with his free hand. His body betrayed him and Raphael fell forward. A hard slap on his ear caught him midair, sending him against the wall. Disoriented, his injured foot gave away, and he slid to the sidewalk.
    “What’s happening?” someone asked from the street.
    “Not your business,” the werewolf answered as he closed the door.
    Raphael blinked, his ear rang, and everything sounded distant, but he heard steps getting closer.
    “Hey, are you okay?” the passerby asked, leaning over him.
    One leg outstretched before him, Raphael gave the man a wave of his hand. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
    “Are you sure? I can call an ambulance. The police—” The man had his cell phone ready on his hand.
    “There’s no need. Thank you though.”
    “You don’t look okay—” The man fidgeted with his phone.
    Raphael wondered where those good citizens were when he was beaten daily by his father. He could have used some help then. Pushing himself up without swearing was a feat, but he achieved verticality with a mere grimace. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. Just a misunderstanding with my friend.” With a smile that hurt his face, he wobbled to his bicycle, but instead of mounting the Nimbus he walked it away. His ear still ringing, he was unbalanced for the first few steps, but got the hang of it soon.
    Rounding the corner, he looked behind to check if the man was still there. He was. Raphael sighed and hurried to enter the first alley he encountered. There, he hid behind a dumpster and waited, flattened against the wall.
    A few heartbeats later, the man strolled past the backstreet, then came back, his steps slow as he paused a few meters from Raphael. Shaking his head, the man finally left, and Raphael let out the breath he was holding.
    “So help me Great Wolf from the good Samaritans.” Sliding along the wall, he sat on the thin layer of asphalt covering the cobblestones, taking a breather before going back to the Reds’.
    When he knocked, Mr. Wifebeater opened the door. “You gotta be kidding.”
    Squaring his stance proved problematic—his balance wasn’t fully back yet—but Raphael stood tall before the wolf. “Put me to work.”
    A jogging couple stopped on the other side of the road, and the woman bent to tie her shoes while her companion glanced at them.
    The werewolf gave Raphael one exasperated look. “Go away.”
    “I won’t.” Raphael waved at the couple. “Hi.”
    “What are you doing?” The wolf’s hand shot forward and grabbed Raphael by his shirt.
    While smiling at the couple, Raphael lowered his voice to say, “If anything happens to me, people saw me talking to you here.”
    Mr. Wifebeater’s eyebrow arched, a grin tugging at his lips. “Yes, but, apart from the fact that a few witnesses mean nothing to me—” He twisted Raphael’s shirt in his hand. “If anything happens to you, believe me when I say that you’d never be found.”
    “You don’t scare me.” Still with his eyes on the couple, Raphael shrugged. “Give me something to deliver.”
    The wolf shook his head, but released his hold on him, and started laughing. Then he stopped, his brows furrowed for a moment, soon replaced by a slow smile. “You know what? I’ll give you something to do. But if