The night smelled of rain and blood.
Arianna Vasquez clutched her coat tighter around her body as she hurried through the dimly lit alleyway, her boots splashing through shallow puddles. The city never truly slept, but in the dead hours past midnight, the streets belonged to shadows and whispers. She had been working late again—her shift at the small café stretching past closing hours. It wasn't safe for a woman alone at this hour, but she had no choice. Rent was overdue, and her bank account barely held enough to cover a week's worth of groceries.
The alley was the fastest route home. She knew it was reckless, but exhaustion dulled her instincts.
She was halfway through when she heard it. Footsteps.
Slow. Measured. Heavy.
Her breath hitched. She forced herself to keep walking, her fingers tightening around her purse. Don't run, she told herself. Don't show fear.
But the footsteps quickened.
Before she could react, a rough hand grabbed her wrist, yanking her back. A gasp ripped from her throat as she stumbled, her purse slipping from her grasp. The metallic stench of sweat and alcohol filled her nostrils.
"Well, well… what do we have here?" a voice sneered.
Arianna's heart pounded as she looked up into the cold, leering eyes of a man with a jagged scar down his cheek. Three others stood behind him, their gazes dark with ill intent.
Panic surged through her veins.
"Please," she whispered, trying to pull away.
The scarred man chuckled, shoving her against the damp brick wall. "Pretty thing like you shouldn't be out alone."
She struggled, kicking out, but he caught her leg with ease. His grip tightened painfully.
Terror turned to desperation. She opened her mouth to scream—
And then the air changed.
A suffocating pressure filled the alleyway, like the very night had thickened. The temperature plummeted, the warm city air turning icy. The streetlamp above flickered once, twice… then died.
The men stiffened.
"What the hell—"
A deep voice cut through the darkness.
"Let. Her. Go."
Arianna barely had time to register the words before a figure stepped forward from the shadows.
Tall. Unnaturally tall. Clad in an all-black suit, his silhouette was broad and powerful, radiating a presence so intense that the air itself seemed to tremble. His face was shrouded in darkness, but when the moonlight caught his features, she saw sharp cheekbones, piercing silver eyes, and lips curled in a smirk that sent chills down her spine.
The scarred man let go of her instantly, stepping back, his hands shaking. "Who the fuck are you?" he snarled, but his voice wavered.
The stranger tilted his head, as if amused.
"Your worst nightmare," he murmured.
And then he moved.
Faster than humanly possible.
A blur of darkness. A whisper of wind. And suddenly, the first man was screaming.
Arianna stumbled back in horror as her attacker fell to his knees, clutching his chest, his eyes wide with terror. The others turned to run—too late.
The stranger barely lifted a hand, and an invisible force slammed them against the alley walls. One by one, they collapsed, unconscious.
"Silence."
Arianna's breath came in ragged gasps.
The man turned to her, those silver eyes locking onto hers. Something in them was unnatural, too piercing, too knowing.
"You're bleeding." His voice was low, almost gentle, a contrast to the lethal presence that still clung to him.
Arianna barely registered the stinging pain in her wrist where the man had grabbed her. She should have run. She should have screamed. But something about this stranger made it impossible to move.
Then he took another step forward, and the world tilted.
Darkness surged into her vision, swallowing her whole.
The last thing she saw before she lost consciousness was his smirk—dark, knowing, and filled with something that made her stomach twist.
"Sleep, little wife. You're mine now."