Semua Bab Tethered To Fate : Bab 31 - Bab 40

Chapter 30: The Choice (Dominic’s POV) Morning sunlight spilled across the floor of my office like melted gold, but it did nothing to warm the cold pit that had settled in my chest. I hadn’t slept much. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard her voice. Quiet. Honest. Breaking. I trusted someone once. I built my future around them. I leaned back in my chair, one arm draped along the backrest as I stared at the untouched espresso cooling on my desk. She hadn’t told me his name. She hadn’t needed to. Her pain had said enough. And I hated that someone had made her feel like she wasn’t enough. She was more than enough. But how could I say that and expect her to believe it? She barely trusted herself, let alone anyone else. And me? I was the last person she should trust. I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. My wolf stirred restlessly inside me, anxious, unsettled. A knock pulled me out of my thoughts. “Come in,” I called. Sloan walked in, holding a f

Chapter 32: The Weight of Watching Eyes (Nayla’s POV) The penthouse felt different now. Not bigger or colder, but… exposed. Like someone was standing on the edge of every room, just out of sight. Watching. I kept the curtains drawn. Double-checked the locks. Jumped at every unexpected noise. Dominic hadn’t said much after showing me the photo. Just that he was looking into it and he wouldn’t let anything happen to me. But words didn’t stop my nerves from fraying. I couldn’t even bring myself to go down the block for tea. Not when the thought of eyes tracking my every move made my skin crawl. And worst of all? I had no idea who would do this. My mind spiraled with possibilities, looping through every ghost from my past. None of them fit. So I stayed inside. Silent. Nervous. Caged. I was curled on the couch with a blanket and a mug of untouched tea when Dominic appeared in the doorway. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at me like he was deciding something.

Chapter 34: No More Waiting (Dominic’s POV) I waited until we were back in the penthouse. Kayla and Alec were tucked away in one of the guest rooms, their voices soft through the cracked door. They were trying to make light of it, to ease the tension. Sloan had disappeared into the study with the bar’s security footage, his jaw clenched, focus like a blade. The air was too still, like everything in the world was waiting to breathe again. But I had only one focus. Nayla. She stood at the massive floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room, silhouetted against the skyline, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her eyes swept across the glittering city lights like they might rearrange themselves into an answer she didn’t yet have. I stepped toward her, stopping a few feet behind. Not too close. Not yet. “You need more protection.” She turned, slow and deliberate. Her expression wasn’t surprised—just tired. Wary. “I have you. And Sloan. Isn’t that enough?” “No,” I said, voice lo

Chapter 36: The Vanishing (Nayla’s POV) The day started like any other. Dominic had already left for meetings, but he left a note on the kitchen counter—black ink on white paper, his handwriting sharp, clean, and impossibly neat. Back before dinner. Be good. It made me smile, even as I rolled my eyes. He always said it like I was going to start trouble the second he walked out the door. Maybe I would have, just to see the way he narrowed his eyes and muttered my name under his breath. But today, I wanted peace. Kayla had texted me early that morning about a pop-up boutique a few blocks away in the neutral zone. It was one of those secret word-of-mouth places—no sign out front, no website, just charm pieces, hand-stitched dresses, and enchantments woven into silk. Normally, I wouldn’t have gone. Not alone. Not lately. But I’d been feeling stronger. I wanted to feel normal again—even if just for an hour. Merek followed, of course. Always ten steps behind, always watching. A sha

Chapter 38: The Ghost Trail (Dominic’s POV) I needed to see it with my own eyes. The boutique was closed when I arrived—Sloan had already made sure of that. The street was quiet, civilians and wolves alike going about their day, oblivious to the war crawling beneath my skin. I stepped inside alone. The space was elegant and deceptively soft—mirrors, fabric, and the faint lingering scent of lavender. But it all felt wrong. Like a trap after the teeth had already snapped shut. I moved slowly, letting my senses stretch. Searching. Reaching. There—her scent. Faint. Barely there. A wisp of jasmine and ocean salt. It led to the fitting room. I followed, heart pounding. Then… nothing. The trail cut off mid-step. One second she was there, and the next she was erased. I crouched, fingertips brushing the tiled floor. There were no signs of a struggle. No residual power signature. No spilled fabric. No blood. Not even a scuff mark. It was surgical. Clean. Sloan stepped in behind m