Chapter Five: We need to talk

ARIA

I pushed the stack of papers closer to the edge of my desk, my hands trembling from exhaustion. It had been three days since I started working here, but it already felt like three years. Knox Grey, my so-called boss, was nowhere to be found. In his absence, Trisha, his secretary, had taken full advantage of me

"Aria, why is this report still here?" Trisha’s sharp voice sliced through the quiet office, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she approached my desk. I looked up, startled, holding back a sigh.

"It’s not my job to—"

She cut me off before I could even finish. "Not your job? You’re Knox’s PA, aren’t you? That means you assist. And right now, I need assistance."

I clenched my fists under the desk. This wasn’t part of my role. I was Knox's PA not Trisha's PA, but how could I argue? Trisha carried herself with the air of someone untouchable.

Swallowing my frustration, I forced a polite tone. "I’ll take care of it."

Hours later, the office was silent, the kind of silence that pressed against your ears and made your breathing sound loud. Everyone else had gone home hours ago, but here I was, still at my desk, finishing tasks that weren’t even part of my job. My body ached from sitting too long, my fingers stiff from typing and filing all day.

I glanced at the clock. 10:55 p.m.

Great, I thought bitterly. Missed the bus again.

Trisha had piled more work on me just before she left, her perfectly manicured nails tapping on my desk as she smirked. “Don’t stay too late, Aria,” she’d said with mock concern. “But if you don’t finish, I’m sure Knox will want an explanation.”

Knox. My elusive boss, who I’d barely seen in three days. It was hard to tell if Trisha spoke for him or just used his name as a weapon. Either way, I was too tired to care.

I packed my things slowly, rubbing my temples as I tried to push down the rising frustration. By the time I stepped outside, the streets were nearly deserted.

The cool night air hit me, making me shiver as I pulled my scarf tighter. I scanned the road for a taxi or a bus. Nothing. The city felt unnervingly quiet, the distant hum of traffic too far to be of any help.

“Of course,” I muttered under my breath. “Just my luck.”

With no other option, I started walking. The house wasn’t exactly far and still not close either, but the idea of trekking through dark streets alone wasn’t exactly comforting.

The city looked different at night—harsher, colder. Streetlights buzzed faintly, their yellow glow casting long, distorted shadows. Every sound felt amplified: the rustle of leaves, the distant hum of an engine, even the echo of my own footsteps.

I took a shortcut through an alley I’d used before during the day. It was faster, but tonight, it felt... wrong. The light overhead flickered, casting strange patterns on the walls.

Keep walking, I told myself, gripping the strap of my bag tightly.

But then I felt it. A prickle at the back of my neck, like I was being watched.

I stopped abruptly, my heart pounding as I turned to look behind me. Nothing. The alley stretched out empty, the faint glow of the distant street barely reaching where I stood.

It’s just your imagination, I thought, forcing myself to move forward. But my steps quickened anyway.

The light flickered again, then went out completely. I froze, every instinct screaming at me to run, but my feet felt glued to the ground.

A low growl broke the silence.

It wasn’t loud, but it was enough to send a wave of fear crashing over me. I turned sharply, my eyes straining to see in the darkness. That’s when I saw it.

My breath caught. The shape of the creature was unmistakable. A wolf. No, not just a wolf—a werewolf.

“No,” I whispered, backing away slowly. “This can’t be happening.”

The werewolf stepped into the dim light, its fur matted and its teeth bared in a snarl. Its eyes locked onto mine, and I knew it was no ordinary rogue.

“Stay back,” I said, my voice trembling. I reached into my bag, frantically searching for the silver pocket knife I always carried. My fingers fumbled through papers, pens, and keys, but the knife wasn’t there.

“No, no, no,” I muttered, panic rising. I must’ve left it at home.

The rogue lunged. I barely had time to throw myself to the side as its claws slashed through the air, catching my shoulder. Pain exploded, and I stumbled, falling hard onto the ground.

My blouse tore, the scarf around my neck slipping just enough to reveal the mark I’d been hiding.

The rogue paused, its gaze fixating on the bite mark. A low, rumbling growl escaped itstime throat, and it seemed to hesitate for a moment before advancing again.

I scrambled backward, clutching at my torn blouse as blood seeped through the fabric. My bag lay a few feet away, out of reach. My mind raced.

Think, Aria. Think!

The wolf lunged again, and this its claws caught the edge of my skirt, dragging me closer. I kicked out wildly, my shoe connecting with its snout. It yelped, momentarily stunned, but the sound only seemed to enrage it further.

“Someone, help!” I screamed, my voice echoing off the walls of the dark alley. My heart pounded like a drum as the rogue bared its teeth, ready to lunge again.

Tears blurred my vision, and I clutched my scarf tightly, a silent prayer falling from my lips. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself for the inevitable.

But instead of claws tearing into me, the sound of a growl—deeper, more menacing—filled the air. It was followed by a sickening thud, then another, like the jamming of fists against flesh.

I froze, too terrified to open my eyes. The growling continued, a mix of rage and pain, until finally, there was silence.

I hesitated, my hands trembling as I peeked through my lashes.

The rogue was retreating, its injured body limping back into the shadows. It cast one last glare over its shoulder before disappearing into the darkness.

And then, I saw him.

Knox stood a few feet away, his broad shoulders tense and his breathing heavy. Without a word, he strode forward, each step deliberate.

When he reached me, he crouched down, his piercing gaze dropping to my exposed shoulder.

The scarf had fallen, and the bite mark was clearly visible. His jaw tightened. “We need to talk,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.