Gabrielle Serenity. The name carried weight in every corner of the city — whispered in police precincts, muttered in corporate boardrooms, and feared in the darkest alleys. Heiress to the Serenity empire, she had everything the world could offer: wealth, influence, privilege. But she had chosen a different path. She wasn’t content to sit on her family fortune and watch the world pass by. Gabrielle had a calling — one that came with blood, danger, and a name she’d earned herself: detective.

By day, she walked the thin line between law and obsession, solving cases that made other detectives shiver. Crime scenes were her comfort zones; she never flinched, never gagged, never wavered. By night, she let the city swallow her into its shadows. Fridays were her escape. She donned red dresses that glimmered under strobe lights, slipped into nightclubs where smoke and bass throbbed like the city’s pulse, and let herself vanish into anonymity.

And every Friday night, there was Dominic. Dominic — dark, dangerous, magnetic. They knew each other by name, by face, by habit. Yet there was a secret layer beneath the surface, a game only he truly played. He was everything she wanted to push away, and everything she couldn’t resist. And Gabrielle, brilliant as she was, didn’t yet know that the man she shared her nights with was the same man she hunted during the day — the serial killer who had stalked the city for seven years.

That morning, the city was just a pale gray behind the blinds. Gabrielle stood at the edge of the bed, slipping on black stockings, her movements calm, precise — the same precision she used at crime scenes. Dominic lounged against the headboard, shirtless, a smoldering cigar in his mouth, smoke curling upward and painting the room with a haze of danger.

He watched her carefully, amusement lurking behind his eyes. “Gabrielle,” he said, voice rough and low from sleep, “six in the morning and you’re already dressed for war.” He exhaled a plume of smoke, watching it twist into the dim light. “Ever think about taking a day off?”

She glanced at him in the mirror, adjusting the collar of her blouse. “I don’t take days off,” she said simply. Her tone was neutral, professional, but he could sense the small edge of warmth hidden underneath — the part of her that felt alive when she was with him.

Dominic smirked, tapping the ash into the tray beside him. “You’re going to burn yourself out, chasing monsters all week. You need someone to remind you how to live… how to feel.”

She gave him a sharp look, one that could’ve been a scolding glare if someone else had seen it, then slipped on her tailored coat, movement smooth, practiced. “I don’t need reminding,” she said, voice flat. “And I don’t need company for the days I’m awake, Dominic.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and dangerous, like a predator amused by its prey. “No, but I get Fridays,” he said, leaning back into the pillows. “Those are mine. Until next week.”

Gabrielle paused at the door, hand on the handle. “Until next Friday, Dominic.” She didn’t smile. She didn’t have to.

He watched her go, cigar smoke trailing after her like a shadow. When the door clicked shut, his grin returned — calm, patient, calculating. Watching her walk out, alive and untouching his secret, made the game sweeter.

Because Dominic knew something Gabrielle didn’t. Every step she took in the investigation, every lead she followed, brought her closer to him. And yet, when she returned to him, she returned willingly — blissfully unaware of the monster lying in her arms every Friday night.

The city was theirs — hers in the daylight, his in the dark — but only one knew the truth.