Chapter 7

Sera POV

My alarm went off at 6am, it was sharp and unforgiving. I'd set it for 5:30 but apparently hit snooze twice without remembering. The first day of my internship at Hoblox, and I was already behind schedule.

"Great start, Sera," I muttered, stumbling toward the bathroom.

The face staring back at me in the mirror looked like it belonged in a zombie movie. Dark circles, pale skin, and hair that defied every law of physics. The nightmares had kept me up most of the night, leaving me feeling like I'd run a marathon in my sleep.

I showered quickly, trying not to think about the dream where someone or something had been hunting me through empty city streets. The hot water helped wash away some of the lingering dread, but not all of it.

Getting dressed was an exercise in imposter syndrome. The navy dress Bri had bought me looked professional enough, but I felt like a kid playing dress-up in her mother's clothes. I paired it with the one pair of decent heels I owned, secondhand, but barely worn—and tried to convince myself I looked like someone who belonged in a corporate office.

The commute was a revelation. Instead of an hour-long bus ride across town, I walked eight blocks and arrived at the Hoblox building with time to spare. The glass tower stretched up into the morning sky, all sharp angles and reflected sunlight. People in expensive suits moved through the lobby with purpose, their footsteps echoing off marble floors.

I approached the security desk, my stomach churning with nerves.

"Seraphina Knox," I told the guard, a middle-aged man with kind eyes. "I'm starting an internship today."

He checked his computer, then handed me a temporary badge. "Fifteenth floor. Someone from HR will meet you at the elevator."

The elevator ride felt endless. I shared it with two women in power suits who discussed quarterly reports like they were planning military strategy. I tried to look like I understood what they were talking about, but mostly I just focused on not throwing up from nerves.

The fifteenth floor was open concept, all glass offices and modern furniture. Everything screamed money and success. The HR representative, a woman named Janet with perfect teeth and a handshake that could crush bones, led me through the maze of cubicles.

"You'll be working with the marketing analysis team," she explained as we walked. "Nothing too complicated to start with, just the simple data entry, filing, and basic research. We like to ease our interns into things."

She introduced me to my supervisor, a tired-looking man named Marcus who barely looked up from his computer screen.

"Another intern," he said, like I was a package that had been delivered to the wrong address. "Your desk is over there. Password for the computer is on a sticky note. Try not to break anything."

"Encouraging," I murmured under my breath.

My desk was in the back corner, squeezed between a filing cabinet and a printer that looked older than me. The computer took five minutes to boot up, and when it finally loaded, half the programs crashed immediately.

"Technology," said the woman at the desk next to mine. She looked about my age, with curly red hair and a smile that seemed genuine. "I'm Emma. You're the new intern, right?"

"Sera. And yes, apparently I am."

"Don't let Marcus get to you. He's actually decent once you prove you're not completely useless. Which, given that you showed up on time and dressed appropriately, you're already ahead of the last three interns."

"What happened to them?"

"One quit after two days. One got fired for showing up drunk. The third one..." She paused. "Actually, I'm not sure what happened to her. She just stopped coming in."

"That's reassuring."

Emma laughed. "Welcome to corporate America. It's exactly as soul-crushing as advertised, but the coffee's decent and they pay on time."

The morning passed in a blur of spreadsheets and filing. The work was mind-numbing, but I threw myself into it anyway. Every task completed perfectly, every file organized exactly as requested. I couldn't afford to be anything less than perfect.

Around noon, Emma invited me to lunch in the break room. It was a sterile space with fluorescent lighting and vending machines that hummed constantly.

"So what's your story?" she asked, unwrapping a sandwich that looked like it cost more than my usual lunch budget.

"Scholarship kid trying not to screw up," I said honestly.

"Aren't we all. Well, except for the trust fund babies they hire sometimes. You can usually spot them—they're the ones who show up in designer clothes and act like filing is beneath them."

"Have you been here long?"

"Two years. Started as an intern, got hired full-time after graduation. It's not glamorous, but it pays the bills and looks good on a resume."

I was about to respond when the break room went quiet. Emma's eyes widened slightly, looking over my shoulder.

"Well, well," she murmured. "That's unusual."

I turned to see what had caught her attention. A man in an expensive suit was walking through the main office area, and everyone was suddenly very focused on their work. He moved with the kind of confidence that comes from never having to doubt your place in the world.

"Who is that?"

"Damon Cross. The CEO." Emma's voice was barely above a whisper. "I've worked here two years and seen him maybe three times. He usually stays up on the executive floors."

Even from a distance, there was something about him that made my skin prickle with awareness. He was younger than I'd expected for a CEO, maybe early thirties, with dark hair and sharp features. He paused at Marcus's desk, and I could see my supervisor practically vibrating with nervous energy.

"What do you think he wants?" I asked.

"Nothing good. When the CEO shows up on your floor unannounced, someone's either getting promoted or fired."

Damon's gaze swept the office, and for just a moment, I thought his eyes landed on me. It was probably my imagination, but something cold slithered down my spine anyway.

Then he was gone, disappearing into the elevator like he'd never been there at all.

"Weird," Emma said, unwrapping her chips. "I wonder what that was about."

I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to focus on data entry, but I kept thinking about the CEO. There had been something familiar about him, though I couldn't place what. Maybe I'd seen his picture in a business magazine or something.

By 5 o'clock, my eyes were burning from staring at spreadsheets. Marcus had already left without a word, and most of the other employees were packing up their things.

"First day survival accomplished," Emma said, logging off her computer. "You walking to the train?"

"I'm actually walking home. I live downtown now."

"Lucky. I've got a 40 minute commute to look forward to."

I gathered my things and headed for the elevator, exhausted but relieved. I'd made it through day one without embarrassing myself or breaking anything important.

The elevator was crowded with other employees heading home. I squeezed into a corner and watched the floors tick by. When the doors opened on the lobby level, I started to step out with everyone else.

That's when I saw him again.

Damon Cross was standing near the security desk, apparently waiting for someone. Our eyes met across the crowded lobby, and the world seemed to tilt sideways.

For just a moment, I could have sworn I was somewhere else entirely. Stone walls instead of glass, torchlight instead of fluorescent bulbs. And standing in front of me, not in a business suit but in clothes I couldn't quite make sense of, was the same man.

"You coming or not?" someone behind me asked impatiently.

I blinked, and I was back in the lobby. Damon was still there, still watching me with an expression I couldn't read. But the stone walls and torches were gone, replaced by marble and modern lighting.

I hurried toward the exit, my he

art hammering against my ribs. Just stress, I told myself. First day jitters combined with too little sleep.