Fate's Unwritten Path

Chapter Eleven

Sasha's POV:

The week had been a blur—a relentless cycle of courtroom battles, client meetings, and endless paperwork. Every day, I barely had a moment to breathe, let alone eat. My once well-ordered life had descended into chaos. The cases piled up like bricks, each one heavier than the last, threatening to crush me under their weight.

Every morning started the same. I'd drag myself out of bed, feeling the exhaustion deep in my bones, and force myself into my carefully curated wardrobe. My suits hung like armor in the closet, each one a piece of the facade I wore to face the world. I'd slip into a black pencil skirt and matching blazer, pulling on sheer tights that had become second nature. The heels—always black, always high—clicked rhythmically on the pavement as I made my way to the courthouse, the sound echoing like a metronome ticking away the hours of my life.

Inside the courtroom, I was a force to be reckoned with. My mind raced as I cross-examined witnesses, dissected evidence, and countered every point the prosecution made. Each case was a battle, and I was a warrior. But even warriors have their limits. By Thursday, I was running on fumes. The headache that had been a dull throb all week had blossomed into a full-blown migraine. But I couldn't stop—not when there were lives on the line.

By Friday, the exhaustion had seeped into my very soul. I could barely keep my eyes open as I filed the final motions of the day. My body ached from sitting in the stiff courtroom chairs, and my throat was raw from speaking for hours on end. But there was no time to rest, not yet. I had to get home. The idea of collapsing into my bed was the only thing keeping me upright.

The sun had long since set by the time I left the courthouse. The streets were deserted, a heavy fog rolling in from the river, shrouding the city in a blanket of mist. My heels echoed off the buildings as I hurried home, my arms wrapped tightly around my body to ward off the chill that had settled in.

As I turned the corner onto my street, a sense of unease washed over me. The shadows seemed darker, the night quieter. I shook my head, dismissing the feeling as paranoia brought on by exhaustion. But then I saw him—my boss—stepping out from the shadows of the alleyway I had to pass to reach my apartment.

"Sasha," he slurred, his voice a grotesque mixture of alcohol and malice. He stumbled towards me, and instinctively, I stepped back, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. "Don't you want to...celebrate?"

My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to sidestep him, but he was faster than I anticipated. His hand shot out, gripping my arm with a force that made me wince. "Let go of me," I demanded, trying to pull away, but his grip only tightened.

"You think you're better than us? All high and mighty, prancing around the courtroom like you own the place." His words were venomous, each one dripping with resentment. "But you're just a little girl playing dress-up."

I tried to wrench my arm free, but he yanked me into the alleyway, the rough brick scraping against my back. Panic surged through me as I realized what was happening. "No! Let go!" I screamed, but the sound was swallowed by the thick fog, lost to the night.

Before I could react, two more men appeared from the darkness, their faces twisted into cruel smiles. They grabbed me, pinning my arms to the wall. "Please," I whimpered, my voice breaking as I struggled against their grip. "Please, don't do this."

One of the men leered at me, his hand sliding down my body to my thigh where he stuck his nails into my skin, and I felt bile rise in my throat. This couldn't be happening—not here, not now. But just as I was about to scream again, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the alley.

Suddenly, the men holding me were ripped away, their bodies slamming into the brick wall with a sickening thud. I collapsed to the ground, gasping for air as I looked up to see five men, all dressed in black, standing over my attackers. One of them grabbed my boss by the collar, lifting him off the ground as if he weighed nothing.

"Get them out of here," one of the men ordered, his voice cold and devoid of emotion. The others complied, dragging the three men towards a waiting car.

I sat there, trembling, as the blood slowly trickled down my leg from where the man's nails had dug into my skin. I could barely comprehend what had just happened—my mind was a whirlwind of fear, pain, and confusion.

Somehow, I managed to stand, my legs wobbling beneath me as I stumbled out of the alley and towards my apartment. Each step was agony, my body screaming in protest, but I forced myself to keep moving. I had to get home—I had to be safe.

When I finally reached my apartment, I fumbled with the keys, my hands shaking so badly that it took several tries before I could unlock the door. As soon as I stepped inside, I collapsed onto the kitchen floor, the cold tiles pressing against my cheek as I clutched my side in pain. Scooby whined, nudging me with his nose, but I couldn't bring myself to move.

For what felt like hours, I lay there, too exhausted to do anything but breathe. My mind was blank, numb to everything but the pain radiating through my body. But then there was a knock at the door—soft, hesitant.

A surge of panic shot through me. I couldn't handle anything else tonight. But the knocking persisted, and I forced myself to stand, clutching the counter for support as I hobbled to the door.

With a trembling hand, I looked through the peephole and saw Lucas standing on the other side, his expression unreadable. My heart lurched in my chest as I unlocked the door, my mind reeling from the events of the night.

As the door creaked open, our eyes met, and for the first time, I felt a glimmer of something other than fear—attraction. But even that was laced with dread, for I knew that nothing in my life would ever be the same again.