The night had swallowed the street whole when she finally headed home.

No cars. No voices. Only the echo of her own footsteps on the pavement and the steady rhythm of her breathing. Gotham — or Paris — didn’t matter. Darkness felt the same everywhere.

Then the feeling came.

Eyes on her back. Close. Patient.

She stopped.

Turned sharply.

Nothing. An empty street. Stillness. Silence.

She exhaled, shaking off the chill crawling under her skin, and turned forward again.

That was when she saw him.

A boy stood in her path, as if he had stepped out of the shadows themselves. Skin pale as moonlight. Eyes fixed on her with an intensity that felt almost inhuman. Unblinking. Hungry.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t move.

He only watched.

And the night suddenly felt very small around them.