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Chapter 10: The Edge of the Knife
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2025-04-29 11:58:19Chapter 10: The Edge of the Knife
(Nayla’s POV — First Person) “Hello, little wolf.” The words wrapped around me like a collar I didn’t remember agreeing to wear. I opened my mouth to respond—but nothing came out. Nothing but heat. It climbed up my throat, spread across my cheeks, made my palms sweat against the edge of the bar. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Dominic Gray stood less than three feet away, and the weight of his gaze pinned me in place harder than any hand ever could. Jamie didn’t notice the tension. She leaned in with an eager smile, laughing too brightly. “So… are you always this generous with strangers, Mr….?” Dominic didn’t even glance at her. Didn’t answer. His eyes stayed locked on mine, quiet and devastating. I swallowed hard, gripping my glass like it could anchor me. “How was your day?” he asked, voice pitched low enough that it rolled over my skin without permission. Simple words. Terrifying in his mouth. I cleared my throat, forcing sound past the knot lodged there. “It was… good.” Weak. Shaky. Embarrassing. But it made the corners of his mouth lift slightly, like he liked the way I stumbled over him. The heat between us thickened—unspoken, inescapable. Sloan and Kayla were still laughing nearby, providing a thin barrier of normalcy. But under it— my wolf Sky was howling. Lifting her nose. Scenting something coming. Something dark. Something wrong. I tensed a second before it happened. The front windows of Fangs exploded inward with a scream of shattered glass. The world turned white-hot. I grabbed Jamie by the arm and yanked her down behind the bar, shielding her instinctively. Dominic had already moved—fast and lethal—his body angled in front of mine. Through the smoke and chaos, figures surged forward. Rogues. Wolves stripped of allegiance, driven by blood and madness. Snarling. Savage. Dominic growled low in his throat, a sound that shook the floor under my boots. Sloan flanked him, a blade flashing into his hand. The air was thick with panic, with teeth and claws and rage. I crouched low, adrenaline burning through the fog of shock. Jamie was wide-eyed, frozen in terror. I shoved her toward the back exit. “Go! Now!” She hesitated, but the crack of a chair shattering nearby sent her running. I straightened slowly, heart hammering. Sky was howling in my blood. Not with fear. With fury. The nearest rogue lunged toward the bar—toward Kayla, who was scrambling for cover. I didn’t think. I moved. My heel splintered on the floor as I shifted my weight, spinning and catching the rogue in the ribs with a brutal kick. He staggered. Snarled. Came back swinging. I ducked under the swipe of his claws, grabbing a broken stool leg off the floor and driving it into his side with all the strength I had. He howled, stumbling back. Pain exploded up my forearm, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Another rogue tried to flank me—and was ripped away mid-air by a flash of black. Dominic. His hands caught the rogue’s throat, slamming him down so hard the floor cracked. He turned then, pinning me with a look so raw, so wild, it nearly stole my breath all over again. Not anger. Not annoyance. Awe. Like he hadn’t expected me to stand my ground. Like he hadn’t expected anyone but him to fight. Our eyes locked—gray into storm gray. A silent recognition passed between us. And then another rogue came crashing toward us. Dominic moved first—silent, brutal grace—and I followed, teeth bared, heart hammering, wolf and woman moving as one. Not his responsibility. Not his burden. His equal.
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Tethered To Fate Chapter 84: What Remains in Silence
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Tethered To Fate Chapter 83: Burn Through the Silence
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Tethered To Fate Chapter 82 : The Night She Was Left
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Tethered To Fate Chapter 81: The Resemblance and the Silence
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Tethered To Fate Chapter 80: What He Left Buried
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Tethered To Fate Chapter 79: What Was Left Behind
Chapter 79: What Was Left Behind (Nayla’s POV) The ancient district felt like another world. The streets were narrow, lined with cobblestone and overgrown ivy. The buildings were old, leaning into one another like they were whispering secrets only time could understand. Magic shimmered here, not the showy kind, but the quiet, unsettling kind that made the hair on your arms rise. Dominic walked close beside me, one hand brushing mine as we approached the small, weather-worn building tucked between two merchant towers. The door was wood, carved with sigils so old I couldn’t name them. He knocked twice. Then once more. A latch clicked. The door opened a sliver, and a single golden eye peered through the gap. “I’m looking for the Keeper,” Dominic said. “No appointments,” the voice said flatly. “I’m not here for records,” I said, stepping forward. “I’m here for truth.” Silence. Then the door opened fully. The Keeper was taller than I expected. Thin. Pale. Ageless. His robes
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