Chapter 6: Fall Into Fate

Chapter 6: Fall Into Fate

(Nayla’s POV — First Person)

I woke up half an hour late.

Which was a miracle, considering I barely slept.

I scrambled out of bed, heart hammering against my ribs, and sprinted to the bathroom. I had two choices:

Fix my hair or do my makeup.

There wasn’t time for both.

I chose the hair.

I slicked it into a tight, wet bun, letting a few strands fall loose around my face. If I was lucky, they’d dry in soft waves by the time I made it to the interview.

If not—well, it wasn’t like I could rewind time.

I threw on my best navy blue suit—a little snug around the hips now, but still professional—and grabbed my worn leather portfolio, praying it looked more vintage chic than sad and broke.

By the time I hit the street, the morning sun was already too high, and the city air smelled like burnt bagels and desperation.

I hopped on the subway, wedging myself between two very angry businessmen and a kid playing something that sounded suspiciously like a dying cat on his phone.

The train stalled between stops.

Twice.

I spilled half a cup of coffee down the sleeve of my jacket trying to dodge a guy with an entire backpack collection strapped to him.

My heel caught in a crack on the platform when I bolted out of the station, nearly sending me flying into a group of tourists.

By the time I made it to the towering glass building that housed Sterling & Cross, I was sweating through my blouse, breathing like I’d just run a marathon, and contemplating the dark magic it must take to look effortlessly polished at 9 AM.

I stood on the sidewalk, staring up at the skyscraper.

Fifty floors of sleek steel and mirrored windows cutting into the sky.

It looked cold.

Untouchable.

Exactly the kind of place that would crush a no-name wolf like me if I gave them half a reason.

The doors were heavy glass, opened by discreet men in dark suits with earpieces.

Inside, the lobby was marble and chrome, gleaming so bright it felt like stepping into another world.

Sterling & Cross wasn’t just a law firm.

It was power.

And somehow, against every odd, I was here.

I squared my shoulders, wiped my sweaty palms on my skirt, and made my way to the elevator.

The interview itself was a blur.

Sleek conference room.

A woman in a pencil skirt firing questions at me like bullets.

A man in a silver tie who barely looked up from his tablet.

I answered everything.

Crisp. Sharp. Controlled.

Like my entire future was balanced on the edge of a knife.

When it was finally over, I stepped out of the glass-walled conference room onto the 50th floor lobby, heart still pounding.

“You did it,” I whispered to myself.

“You survived.”

Now I just had to get out of here without making an idiot of myself.

Which, of course, is when everything went wrong.

I punched the elevator button too fast, too desperate to escape.

When the doors slid open, I stepped inside without thinking.

Only after they sealed behind me did I realize—

Wrong elevator.

This one didn’t have the usual glowing panel.

It had a polished brass key insert and floors I didn’t even recognize.

VIP elevator.

For the Important People.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath, stabbing at the wrong button and trying to look invisible.

The elevator jolted slightly.

And that’s when the universe really decided to screw me.

My heel—my stupid, cheap, discount-aisle heel—snagged on the tiny gap between the elevator and the floor.

There was a sickening snap.

And then I was falling forward, arms flailing, portfolio slipping from my fingers—

—right into someone’s chest.

Not just any someone.

Hard muscle.

Warm breath.

And that scent—

Earthy. Dark. Clean.

Like pine forests after a thunderstorm.

Strong hands caught me, steadying me effortlessly.

I gasped, clutching at the lapels of a perfectly tailored black jacket, trying not to pass out from a combination of embarrassment, adrenaline, and—

recognition.

I looked up.

Straight into eyes I knew from my dreams.

Eyes I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since the night at Nocturne.

Him.

The stranger from the bar.

And beside him, another man—taller, broader, with dark, watchful eyes and a faint smirk playing on his mouth.

I was frozen.

Panic.

Heat.

Shock.

All colliding under my skin.

He stared down at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

Then he said, in that low, rough voice that had haunted me for days:

“You always fall for men this easily, little wolf?”