MasukEmily had always known how to break herself without leaving a mark.It was a skill she had learned long before she understood what pain meant - how to take it, how to carry it, how to use it. Pain was never something to fear. It was something to measure. Something to control.But as she stood behind her desk, her phone still warm in her hand from Knox’s message, she realized this time would be different.Because this time, she hesitated.Her gaze drifted across the office floor, settling on Damien through the glass partition of his office. He was speaking to someone on a call, his posture relaxed, his expression unreadable in that quiet, controlled way that had begun to unsettle her more than it should. There was nothing in his face that gave anything away. No sign that he was hiding anything. No crack. No shift.And that was the problem.She still could not read him.Her fingers tightened slightly around her phone.Meeting. 6 PM. Mandatory.Knox’s words echoed again in her mind, shar
The moment Emily stepped into the office, she sensed the shift before anyone said a word. It wasn’t tension or urgency that filled the space, but something far more restless and alive. The usual rhythm of quiet work had been replaced by a hum of overlapping conversations, voices rising and falling in uneven bursts, as if everyone was trying to tell the same story at once. Small groups had formed between desks, phones were being passed around, and even those who tried to remain seated kept turning in their chairs, drawn into the collective excitement. It felt less like the start of a workday and more like the aftermath of something that had shaken everyone at once.Emily slowed her steps slightly, her eyes moving across the room as she took in the details. This wasn’t ordinary office chatter. There was energy in it—something sharp, something fueled by the kind of news that carried both sho
Emily woke slowly, as if the morning had to reach for her and pull her back from somewhere far away. For a few quiet seconds, she lay still in her bed, her eyes closed, her breathing steady, but her mind already awake—caught in the lingering threads of a dream that refused to dissolve. It did not fade the way ordinary dreams did. It stayed, vivid and unsettling, clinging to her like something that had not been imagined, but remembered.The feeling of it lingered first before the images fully returned. There had been warmth, closeness, the unmistakable sense of being held in a way that felt safe and consuming at the same time. She could still recall the way Damien’s presence had wrapped around her, the way his voice had sounded when he called her name—low, certain, impossibly close. It had not felt like fantasy. It had felt real.But then the s
Damien woke with a sharp breath, his body tensing before his eyes even opened. For a moment, he lay still, caught between sleep and awareness, the remnants of the dream clinging to him in a way that refused to fade. It wasn’t the kind of dream that dissolved the moment he woke. It lingered—clear, detailed, and far too real.“Damien.”The voice came again, low and familiar.His wolf.Damien exhaled slowly and pushed himself upright, dragging a hand across his face as he tried to steady his breathing. “I’m awake,” he murmured, though his voice was quieter than usual, as if something in him hadn’t fully settled yet.There was a pause before the wolf spoke again, more alert this time. “Something is wrong,” the wolf said. Damien leaned back slightly against the headboard, his gaze drifting toward the darkened ceiling as he tried to piece the dream together into something he could explain. For a moment, he didn’t answer, as if saying it out loud would make it more real than he was ready fo
Emily did not remember the moment sleep took her.One minute she had been lying in bed, her thoughts circling everything Damien had said, replaying his voice, his expression, the way he had looked at her as though what he felt was something certain and unshakable. The next, the weight of those thoughts slipped away, and the world around her softened into something quieter, something deeper.When she opened her eyes, he was there.Damien lay beside her as though he had always been meant to be there, his presence fitting into the space with an ease that felt almost unsettling in how natural it was. The room around them was the same—her room, dimly lit, the soft glow of the lamp casting gentle shadows along the walls—but everything felt warmer, closer, more intimate than it had ever been before.She turned her head slightly, her gaze finding his, and for a moment neither of them spoke. There was no surprise in her expression, no confusion, only a quiet awareness that settled between them
Emily had not meant to wait for him.That was what she told herself as she lingered a little longer at the dining table after dinner, listening to the soft chatter of the housekeeper and the two younger women as they cleared the dishes and spoke about small, ordinary things. She nodded when expected, smiled when appropriate, even added a word here and there, but her attention was elsewhere—constantly drifting toward the entrance, toward the faint possibility of hearing the front door open.He didn’t come.Even after the plates were cleared and the conversation thinned, she remained seated for a moment longer than necessary, as though standing up would mean accepting that he truly wasn’t coming back that night. Eventually, she excused herself and went upstairs, her steps slow, her thoughts louder than the quiet house around her.By the time she reached her room, the silence felt heavier than before.She changed and got into bed, pulling the covers over herself, but sleep did not come.
The taxi ride through the city was quiet.Streetlights passed over the windshield one after another, throwing brief flashes of pale light across Emily’s face as the car moved through the nearly empty roads. The driver didn’t ask questions, and Emily was grateful for that. She leaned her head lightl
Emily was still getting used to the rhythm of the office.The top floor of Star Holding moved differently from the rest of the building. Everything was quieter, more controlled. Conversations were softer. Footsteps were deliberate. Even laughter seemed restrained, as if success required discipline.
The smoke came first.It curled through the doorway like a living thing, thick and gray, swallowing the edges of the small cottage. Emily sat on the floor beside the little girl in the flowery dress, watching her play.The girl’s laughter filled the room, bright and careless. Toys were scattered ac
The drive back from the restaurant was quiet.It was not the uncomfortable kind of silence that filled a room when people had nothing to say. This silence felt different - soft, almost thoughtful. The city lights moved past the windows of the car in long golden streaks while Damien drove through th







