Elara barely slept.
Her body ached from the chill, but her mind was too loud to rest. The man in the alley—the one with red eyes—and the one who saved her... they weren't normal. Nothing about them was.
She sat on her narrow mattress, wrapped in blankets, staring at her phone.
No social media profile. No news articles. Just a name whispered online like urban legend: Lucien Vale.
The CEO of Vale Enterprises. Billionaire recluse. Powerful. Untouchable.
And now... her mysterious savior.
Why would a man like that even be in an alley?
She chewed her lip and scrolled deeper. The deeper she went, the stranger it got. Missing person reports. Old murders. Whispers of "the Night King" in fringe forums.
She clicked away, heart pounding.
She had questions. Too many. But only one person might have answers—and he had vanished like he'd never existed at all.
---
Across the city, Lucien stood alone in his private office. Rain streaked down the tall windows behind him. The city pulsed below like a living thing—bright and fragile.
He hadn't meant to interfere. Centuries of discipline shattered the moment he heard her scream. It wasn't weakness. It wasn't hunger.
It was... something else.
He hated that it had a hold on him.
"Reckless," he muttered.
There were rules—rules even he had written. Stay hidden. Stay apart. Do not interfere.
He had broken all three.
And worst of all... he remembered the look in her eyes. Not terror. Not hatred.
Curiosity.
---
Elara wasn't brave. She was desperate. That's what she told herself as she stood outside Vale Tower the next afternoon, soaked from a fresh wave of rain.
The skyscraper loomed above her, dark and gleaming, like it was carved from shadow. People in suits brushed past, eyes straight ahead.
She walked through the doors before she could talk herself out of it.
The lobby was silent, immaculate—white marble floors, black stone columns, a chandelier shaped like falling knives. Cold.
She stepped up to the desk.
"I need to see Mr. Vale," she said, voice steady.
The receptionist didn't blink. "Do you have an appointment?"
"No, but—"
"Elara Dorne."
Elara froze.
The woman gave a small nod. "He's expecting you."
---
The elevator rose without sound. Her reflection stared back from the steel walls—wet curls, wide eyes, clenched hands.
When the doors opened, she found herself in a vast, dimly lit office.
Lucien stood at the far window, a silhouette against the storm.
She stepped inside. The doors closed behind her.
"I didn't expect you to find me," he said.
"I didn't expect you to let me," she replied.
He turned, slowly. His red eyes weren't glowing now. But they still burned.
"Most people run from what they saw last night."
"I'm not most people."
"No," he said. "You're not."