The docks were silent that night — too silent for comfort. The only sounds were the soft lapping of the tide against the pylons and the dull scrape of boots on wet cement. A moon, low and mean, glowed behind the fog.

Luca Marino, head of the Marino crime family, stood beside the trunk of a black sedan. He tugged his coat tighter against the chill as two of his men heaved a rolled-up tarp — a body, heavy and limp — toward the edge of the pier.

“Make it quick,” he muttered, lighting a cigarette. “We ain’t got all night.”

Rico grunted. “You got it, boss.”

They were just about to tip the body into the dark water when Luca felt it — a sudden prickle, like eyes on the back of his neck.

“Hold up.”

He raised a hand, the cigarette glowing between his fingers. “You hear that?”

Rico frowned. “Hear what?”

That’s when something moved — a blur of motion from the shadows.

Before Luca could react, something slammed into him, knocking the wind from his chest. He hit the concrete hard, the cigarette flying from his lips.

A figure — small, fast, stronger than she looked — was on top of him in an instant. He felt her hands clamp down on his shoulders, her breath hot and ragged against his neck.

“What the—!” he barked, trying to shove her off.

Then he saw her face — pale as moonlight, eyes like liquid silver. Her lips peeled back to reveal sharp, glinting fangs.

Rico shouted, “Boss! Get off him!” — but Luca already had her wrists in a vice grip. He rolled, twisting her beneath him, slamming her to the ground. She hissed, a sound that wasn’t human.

“What the hell are you?” he growled, pressing his knee into her chest.

She smiled — even pinned, even furious, she smiled. “Hungry.”

Her voice was low, musical, with an accent he couldn’t place. “You smell of blood… and sin. Perfect.”

He tightened his grip. “You picked the wrong sinner, sweetheart.”

She laughed softly. “Oh, I picked just right.”

For a second, neither of them moved. The men stood frozen, guns half-drawn but unsure if they were looking at a woman or a nightmare.

Luca leaned close, his face inches from hers. “You try that again, I’ll put a bullet in your heart.”

She tilted her head. “That wouldn’t kill me.”

He smirked. “Then I’ll aim for the head.”

Something flickered in her eyes — curiosity, maybe even respect.

“You’re not afraid,” she said.

“Fear’s for people who don’t know what power feels like,” he replied.

{{user}}’s smile widened, showing those fangs again. “Then maybe we’re not so different, you and I.”

He studied her for a moment — this strange, beautiful creature who had just tried to drain him dry. Then, slowly, he eased his grip.

“Get up,” he said. “Before my men decide to stop being polite.”

{{user}} rose with eerie grace, brushing the dust from her long coat. “You kill people,” she said quietly. “I drink them. Yet you call me a monster?”

Luca took a drag from his newly lit cigarette, the ember casting a faint orange glow over his face. “Difference is, I only kill when I have to.”

Her gaze lingered on him, intense and unreadable. “Then maybe someday… you’ll have to kill me.”

He exhaled smoke into the cold air. “Maybe someday,” he said. “But not tonight.”

{{user}}’s lips curved into a faint smile before she melted back into the fog, leaving nothing behind but the echo of her laughter.

Rico finally found his voice. “Boss, what the hell was that?”

Luca stared at the darkness where she’d vanished. “I don’t know,” he said. “But I got a feeling she ain’t done with me.”