Chapter 5 Into the Arms of a Stranger

It was time to go back to work. Break time was over, and if Nina missed one more day, she'd most likely be fired. She'd already gotten a message from her boss that morning:

"I assume your wound is healed now."

That was it.

No greeting. No concern. Just cold, clipped expectation.

She stared at it for a long time. Then forced herself to get dressed.

Her arm still ached beneath the long sleeves. But she couldn't afford to rest anymore. Not when she had bills. Not when no one was coming to save her.

And yet, work was a different kind of hell.

The second she walked through the office doors, the air tightened around her like a noose. The fluorescent lights hummed too loudly. The old printer coughed ink in spurts. People walked past her like she didn't exist.

"Finally decided to show up," her supervisor, Mr. Griggs, snapped, barely glancing up from his tablet. "We've all been pulling your weight. Get to it."

"I'm.."

"Don't bother. The McAllister file's a mess, Jenkins needs help with the invoices, and you'll be covering Matty's desk again since she's still out. That includes phones."

Nina opened her mouth, but he was already walking away.

Her desk was littered with someone else's folders. None of them hers. She sighed and sat.

The McAllister file was missing a page. The invoices were disorganized. A coffee spill from a careless intern had stained the edge of the paperwork.

At 11:17 AM, a client called and shouted at her for ten minutes straight.

At 1:03 PM, someone knocked over her tea. No apology.

At 3:10 PM, her phone died, and the charger port sparked.

No break. No lunch. No breath.

Nina kept her head down. She always did. She did more than anyone else. Carried their mistakes. Smoothed over their messes. And no one noticed.

Except... Marcy.

Marcy was the only one who ever stopped by with a kind word.

"You okay?" she asked quietly, placing a cookie on Nina's desk like it was a peace offering.

Nina gave a tired smile. "Thanks. You didn't have to."

Marcy shrugged. "Figured you could use one. This place eats people."

"I feel like it's already chewed me up."

Marcy leaned in. "They don't deserve you. You're smarter than all of them combined. Don't let them wear you down."

But she already felt worn.

By 6:00 PM, the office emptied, but Nina stayed behind. Another late shift someone else had ditched.

Her stomach growled. Her spine ached. Her soul was a fist clenched too tight.

By the time she stumbled out of the building, the sky cracked open like it had been waiting for her.

Rain poured, cold and relentless. Her coat clung to her, soaked in seconds. Her mascara streaked, but she didn't care.

She walked. No umbrella. No ride. No one to call..who could she even call with a dead phone..she couldn't even call herself a cab.

Half-drunk from the whiskey she'd hidden in her drawer, Nina staggered down the slick pavement. Her heels slipped once. Twice. Her ankle twisted, but she didn't stop.

Milo was gone. Her sister had betrayed her. Her abuser was free.

She was unraveling.

That's when she saw them. Three men, leaning against a shuttered store.

Hoods. Shadows. Grins.

"Hey, pretty thing," one called.

"I'm not in the mood," she muttered.

"Aww, don't be like that," another said, circling.

She turned. Wrong move. One grabbed her wrist.

"Don't touch me!"

"Feisty."

Her chest tightened. Her mind screamed.

She opened her mouth to yell..she screaming but it wasn't even loud enough..She kept moving back her heart beating so fast..she Is cornered.

And then out of nowhere a growl cut through the night. Low but deep..

Then something massive shot out of the darkness like a shadow set on fire. One of them screamed as he was hurled across the sidewalk. Another took a blow to the face so hard his hood ripped clean off.

It happened too fast to track.

The stranger..because it had to be a man, didn't it?..moved like a beast. Fast. Feral. Precise. His fists cracked bone. His boots hit like bricks. He growled again..a sound too deep to come from a normal throat.

The attackers fled, limping, cursing, falling over themselves to get away.

Nina stood rooted, breathless, shaking like a leaf.

The stranger turned to her.

He was tall. Broad.

His hoodie was soaked, clinging to muscles that moved beneath the fabric like coiled power. Rain slicked down his jaw, catching on stubble.

But it was the eyes that made her freeze.

Golden.

Just like the wolf's.

"You..." she started, but the words fell apart.

Her vision blurred. The whiskey, the fear, the cold, the grief..it was too much.

Her knees buckled...

But she didn't hit the ground.

He caught her.

Warm. Solid.

Holding her like she was something precious.

She trembled in his hold, her face buried against his chest. She could hear the thunder of his heart beneath the fabric.

Or maybe it was hers.

She couldn't tell.

She wanted to speak.

To ask him who he was.

What he was.

But she couldn't find her voice.

The last thing she remembered was his breath warm against her forehead... and his scent.

Then..blackness.

---

She woke on her couch.

Wrapped in her blanket. Dry. Warm.

Her soaked coat hung neatly by the heater. A steaming mug of tea waited on the table beside her.

She blinked.

Her body felt heavy, but warm. Her clothes had been changed.

Had she done that?

No-he had.

Her fingers grazed her own skin beneath the blanket, still wearing a dry tee. She looked around. Her apartment was untouched. Still locked. Still hers.

And yet... it wasn't.

Not after what happened.

Not after him.

She sat up too fast. Her head swam.

But the memory crashed back the growl, the blur, the eyes. Not amber. Not brown.

Golden.

Exactly like the wolf from the forest.

Her heart skidded sideways.

Her breath caught.

No. No, no.. that couldn't be right.

But it was.

She knew those eyes.

The stranger who held her wasn't just strong, fast, or unnaturally calm. He was something else. Something wild.

The way he moved. The way he growled.

Her fingers curled around the edge of the blanket.

It hit her like a scream in her skull.

"A werewolf."

She didn't whisper it.

She couldn't.

The word just slammed through her like thunder.

Oh God.

Her pulse skyrocketed.

She jumped to her feet, stumbled to her desk, yanked her laptop open with shaky hands.

"Werewolf," she typed. "Signs. Real or not. Golden eyes. Marked by one. Dreams. Healing ointment."

Her fingers moved fast..too fast.

The internet spat out stories. Legends. Bite marks. Packs. Old-world myths. Silver. Moon phases. Psychic bonds. Marks.

She stared at the word. Marked.

Her arm burned.

She shoved up her sleeve and traced the faint, reddish claw lines. They tingled. Warm. As if reacting.

She slammed the laptop shut

And she turned slowly toward the window

He was there.

A figure across the street.

Still...Watching...and then he wasn't there anymore.

"What the hell is going on,what is happening to me" she whispered to herself...it was starting to feel like she is drifting into a different world..i mean isn't she?