Fate's Unwritten Path

Chapter One

Third Person POV:

New York City was a place of unrelenting pace, where the skyline pierced the heavens and the streets thrummed with the pulse of ambition. For Sasha, it was both battlefield and home. At 26, she had carved out a reputation as one of the city's most formidable lawyers, a feat that had taken every ounce of her discipline, intellect, and drive.

She walked briskly through the marble lobby of her office building, the sharp click of her heels echoing in the cavernous space. She was a vision of meticulous elegance—5'4" of poised confidence wrapped in a tailored black pencil skirt and crisp white blouse. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a sleek bun, and her black-framed glasses lent her a serious, almost austere air. Every detail of her appearance was carefully considered, designed to command respect and keep others at a professional distance.

But beneath that polished exterior was a different story. Sasha wasn't just driven; she was driven by something deeper, a gnawing need to prove herself. Raised in an abusive home, she had clawed her way to the top with sheer determination. She lived by a strict code—work came first, always. Emotions were a luxury she couldn't afford.

Her office was a sanctuary of order, filled with neatly stacked legal files and strategically placed awards and degrees. Yet, despite the accolades and the power that came with them, there was a persistent emptiness in her life. She buried herself in work to ignore it, but it was always there, lurking in the quiet moments between cases.

Today was no different. Her assistant handed her the latest briefs, and she nodded, barely glancing at the clock as she mentally prepared for another 14-hour day. She wasn't tired; she couldn't afford to be. The city demanded everything from those who wished to conquer it, and Sasha had no intention of faltering.

*             *             *

Across town, in a part of the city where the skyscrapers gave way to more shadowed, gritty streets, Lucas stood in front of a cracked mirror, pulling on a black T-shirt that clung to his muscular frame. At 6'6", he was an imposing figure, his height only adding to the air of authority he naturally exuded. His body, lean yet powerful, was etched with tattoos that snaked across his skin—a testament to the life he had led, each one telling a story of violence, loyalty, and survival.

Lucas wasn't just another thug. He was the boss, the one who called the shots in a world that operated outside the bounds of the law. His blonde hair was tousled, giving him a rugged, dangerous charm, but it was his eyes—cold, calculating, and always watchful—that truly marked him as someone not to be crossed. His ears, pierced with small silver hoops, added to the devil-may-care attitude he projected, but those who knew him understood that everything Lucas did was calculated.

He had been born into this life, a legacy of power and crime handed down from a father who had taught him that strength was the only currency that mattered. Over the years, he had built an empire, but with it came enemies—many of them. Lucas was used to looking over his shoulder, prepared for the inevitable betrayals and ambushes that came with his position.

But lately, something had been shifting inside him. The endless cycle of violence and control was beginning to wear thin, and for the first time, he found himself yearning for something more, something he couldn't quite name. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one that he kept tightly locked away, hidden even from himself.

He stepped out of his penthouse, the world outside stark and harsh, reflecting the life he led. The city was his to command, but it came at a price—one that he paid every day with the blood of others and the solitude of his soul. As he descended into the underbelly of New York, Lucas knew that whatever change he was craving, it would not come easily, if at all. In his world, nothing was given—everything had to be taken.

And somewhere in that sprawling city, a force was drawing him towards a path he hadn't anticipated. A collision course with a life very different from his own.

But not yet. Not today.