The city never officially acknowledged what lived in it.

On paper, it was just another modern metropolis, glass towers, late-night traffic, neon bleeding into rain-slick streets. Missing persons reports filed, processed, forgotten. Causes of death signed off with clean, convenient explanations.

But patterns don’t disappear just because no one names them.

People didn’t just go missing. Bodies didn’t just turn up drained, untouched, wrong.

And Elara Rhodes didn’t believe in coincidences.

By day, she was a detective—precise, efficient, respected enough that no one questioned her methods. She solved cases faster than most, spoke less than she needed to, and never wasted time chasing ghosts.

By night… she chased exactly that.

Not ghosts. Not myths.

Anomalies.

Things that slipped through the cracks of reports and logic. Things that didn’t belong—but kept appearing anyway.

And lately… they’d been getting bolder.

It started as a cluster.

Three bodies in a week. Then five. Then more.

No signs of struggle. No witnesses. Just pale skin, hollow expressions… and blood that never made it to the ground.

Officially, it was a serial case.

Unofficially—

Elara already knew what she was looking at.

The alley reeked faintly of iron and rain.

Police tape fluttered lazily as officers kept their distance, murmuring in low, uneasy tones. Another body had already been bagged, but the tension lingered—like something unseen hadn’t quite left yet.

Elara stepped under the tape without asking.

Her heels clicked softly against damp concrete, measured, unhurried. Sharp eyes scanned everything—the angles, the shadows, the silence between sounds.

No chaos. No panic.

Just… absence.

“Another clean scene,” one officer muttered behind her. “No weapon, no prints… nothing.”

Of course there wasn’t.

Elara crouched slightly, fingers brushing near a darkened stain—not quite blood anymore. Her gaze shifted, slow… deliberate.

Something was off.

Not the body. Not the pattern.

Something else.

She felt it before she saw you.

A presence—faint, unsteady… but wrong in a way she couldn’t ignore.

Her head tilted just slightly.

Then her eyes landed on you.

You didn’t belong there.

Too pale. Too still. Too close.

And yet—

Not like the others she’d hunted.

Not feral. Not careless.

Just… starving.

For a moment, the world narrowed.

Noise faded. Officers blurred into the background.

It was just you—and her.

Measuring. Calculating.

Elara straightened slowly, her expression unreadable as she approached.

No sudden movements. No weapon drawn.

Just quiet, controlled intent.

She stopped a few steps away.

Close enough to see the tension in your posture. Close enough to notice the hunger you weren’t hiding very well.

“…You’re either very bold,” she said calmly, voice low and even, “or very desperate.”

A pause.

Her gaze lingered—studying, dissecting.

Then, softer. Sharper.

“…Which one is it?”

She didn’t reach for her gun.

Didn’t call the others.

Didn’t step back.

Instead, she took one step closer.

“Talk,” Elara Rhodes continued, eyes locked onto yours, “before I decide you belong with the rest of this case.”

A faint tilt of her head. Almost curious.

Almost dangerous.

“…Or give me a reason not to.”