Anya Holloway rarely felt truly anxious at work.
But today was different.
The moment her boss slammed his hand against the desk, the sharp sound echoed through the office like a gunshot. Conversations outside his office fell silent. Anya stood frozen in front of him, fingers curled tightly around the folder she had brought in moments earlier.
"The client left without warning," he said, his voice tight with anger. "No explanation. No follow up."
Her stomach dropped.
"You're going to the capital," he said sharply. "You'll speak to them directly. Whatever it takes, you get this project back."
Anya's heart pounded.
"The capital?" she repeated. "Sir, I'm not part of the negotiation team. I'm just an analyst. I don't have the authority to make promises or—"
"I don't care," he interrupted. "You're the one they walked out on. That makes this your responsibility."
The words hit harder than she expected.
Anya opened her mouth to protest again. She wanted to explain that she just went in to deliver the proposal file to him that day. She didn't do anything at all.
"This deal cannot fail," he said sharply. "You're going to the capital. Get it back."
Anya wanted to protest but she swallowed her frustration and nodded.
That same night, she packed a small suitcase and boarded the train to Central city.
****
The next morning, Anya stood in the sleek marble lobby of Stone Corporation, clutching her folder like a shield.
"Miss, do you have an appointment?" the receptionist asked politely.
"No," Anya admitted. "Can I make one?"
The answer crushed her hope.
"Mr Stone's schedule is fully booked this month."
Anya forced a smile, her fingers tightening around the folder.
"Is he in the office today?"
"I'm sorry. I can't disclose that."
She thanked the receptionist and moved to a seating area in the lobby.
Hours passed.
Executives came and went. Assistants hurried by. But Mr Stone never appeared.
By evening, Anya accepted defeat and returned to her hotel, navigating unfamiliar streets with her phone glowing in her hand.
That was when she walked past a lively bar street.
Laughter spilled onto the pavement. Music thumped through open doors. And then she saw him.
A tall man stood beneath the streetlights, his posture confident and unmistakable. A woman clung to his arm, laughing as she leaned close.
Anya stopped walking.
She did not know why her feet froze mid step, only that something invisible had wrapped around her chest and pulled tight. Her heart began to pound violently, each beat loud in her ears, erratic and unsteady.
The city noise faded.
Across the street, Alaric Stone felt it too.
He had just stepped out of the bar when the scent reached him, unmistakable and devastating. Sweet, familiar, threaded with something uniquely hers. It cut through the exhaust fumes and concrete like it did not belong to this world at all.
Anya.
His wolf surged hard against his control, snapping awake as if it had been waiting all these years for this single moment. The sealed bond flared like a live wire, hot and raw, sending pain and longing crashing through him at the same time.
Alaric turned sharply.
His gaze locked onto her.
For a split second, the world fell away.
Anya's breath caught.
The moment their eyes met, something inside her cracked open. Heat spread through her chest, sharp and overwhelming, bringing with it a wave of emotions she could not place. Familiarity. Longing. Loss.
Alaric took a step forward into the car without thinking. The car door slammed shut behind him.
The sound shattered the moment and the car pulled away
She took a step back and suddenly a stranger grabbed her shoulder.
"Miss, are you alone?"
Panic surged. Anya shoved him away, but his grip tightened.
"Let go of me."
Before she could scream again, the pressure vanished.
A man stood between them, tall and calm, his eyes cold as he stared at the stranger down.
The stranger fled without a word.
"Thank you," Anya said, shaken.
"You're welcome," the man replied smoothly. "My name is Sebastian Fang."
"Anya," she said.
"Where are you headed? I can give you a ride."
"My hotel is nearby," Anya said quickly. "Thank you."
She walked away without looking back.
Behind her, Sebastian Fang smiled slowly.
"I finally found you," he murmured.
*****
Elsewhere, Alaric stopped the car.
"Alaric, what's wrong?" the woman beside him asked, pressing close.
"Get out," he said flatly.
She laughed nervously. "You're joking."
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
His voice was ice.
She left without another word.
Alaric drove away, his chest tight, his thoughts in chaos.
He had sealed the bond. He had walked away.
And yet one glance at Anya Holloway had nearly shattered his control.
Her smile faded instantly. She hesitated only a second before reaching for the door handle. Without another word, she stepped out of the car, heels clicking sharply against the pavement as the door shut behind her.
Alaric did not watch her leave.
The moment the door closed, he told the driver to go.
The car pulled back into traffic, moving faster now, as if speed alone could outrun what was tearing through his chest. His thoughts were a tangled mess, memories and instincts colliding violently.
He had sealed the bond.
He had walked away.
He had done everything required of him.
And yet one single glance at Anya Holloway had nearly shattered his control.
The wolf inside him snarled, restless and furious, reminding him of a truth he had spent years denying.
*****
Back in her hotel room, Anya sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall.
The city lights filtered in through the curtains, casting faint shadows across the unfamiliar room. Her suitcase lay half open on the floor, untouched. She had meant to change, to shower, to do anything that would ground her, but her body refused to move.
Her mind would not let her.
The man at the company.
The man on the street.
They were the same.
Mr Stone.
She pressed a hand over her heart, as if trying to steady it.
Why did it hurt?
She had no right to feel this way. No claim. No reason to feel jealous over a man she barely knew, a client she had met for less than a minute.
And yet.
When she closed her eyes, the image returned without mercy.
The woman at his side.
The way her hand had curled around his arm.
The ease of their closeness.
Anya's chest tightened again, sharp and unwelcome. She turned her face away, blinking back the sting behind her eyes.
This was ridiculous, she told herself.
She was tired. Overworked. Letting her imagination run wild because of a long day and an unfamiliar city.
But the ache refused to fade.
Anya lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling now, listening to the hum of the city outside.
Somewhere deep inside her, something whispered that this was not coincidence.
That the pull she felt had a name she had never learned.