The rain slicked the streets of Nocturne like oil on glass—shimmering, sharp, and hiding secrets in every reflection.
Mia Hart pulled her hood tighter around her face, camera slung low and ready. The hum of neon signs buzzed through the air like whispers in an alley, and the scent of burnt ozone and wet pavement filled her lungs as she ducked behind a delivery truck. She had one shot at this. One chance to expose the story that could finally get her off the endless crime beat and into real investigative journalism.
The building ahead looked like nothing special—just another sleek monolith of glass and steel with security too tight for a standard hedge fund or tech company. No logos. No names. Just rumors. And Mia had followed every one of them here.
Her source had vanished two nights ago. Vanished. Not ghosted—gone. The last text she received was simple:
"Dusk owns this city. Be careful."
Now she knew why.
She crept along the edge of the parking garage, camera zoomed in on the executive-level floor. A figure in a tailored black suit stood behind the window, motionless. Watching something—or someone.
Her finger hovered over the shutter.
Click.
The figure vanished.
Mia frowned. Had she blinked? No—no, the camera showed him there one frame, gone the next. No movement. Just gone.
Her heart began to hammer. She'd seen strange things in Nocturne. Everyone had. People disappeared, secrets stayed buried, and sometimes the city whispered to itself in a language only the desperate understood. But this… this felt different.
She turned to leave—
And collided with a wall of heat and darkness wrapped in the form of a man.
"You're trespassing."
The voice was velvet and ice, smooth as wine and twice as dangerous. His hand closed gently around her wrist, effortlessly prying the camera from her grasp.
Mia looked up into eyes like the storm—gray, endless, and ancient.
"Alexander Dusk," she breathed.
His lips curved into a half-smile. "Most people run when they hear that name."
"I'm not most people," she said, chin tilted defiantly, though her voice betrayed the tremble beneath.
"No," he agreed, brushing a raindrop from her cheek like a lover might. "You're curious. That's what gets people killed in this city."
"Then why am I still alive?"
He leaned in, so close she could smell him—cedar, night air, and something coppery beneath. "Because you're interesting."
Lightning cracked behind them, illuminating the city in harsh white.
"I have a proposition for you, Miss Hart," he said. "One that might just let you keep your life... and satisfy that dangerous curiosity of yours."
And just like that, her fate was sealed—not by a bite, not yet—but by the glint of hunger in a billionaire's eye