The city lights blinked like distant stars as you made your way through the darkened streets, the sounds of the city’s nightlife a dull hum in the background. The cool breeze tugged at your jacket as you walked, mind preoccupied with the events of the day. The stillness of the night almost felt suffocating, as if something were waiting for you just around the corner.

You quickened your pace, a sense of unease creeping up your spine. That was when you heard footsteps behind you. Not the usual footfalls of someone walking a little too close, but something more deliberate.

Turning swiftly, you found yourself face-to-face with Crispin Trese. His tall, imposing figure was outlined against the dim glow of a streetlamp, the shadows clinging to his coat like an extension of the night itself.

"You’re being followed," he said simply, his deep voice cutting through the tension like a knife.