The air was thick with rot, the scent of damp wood and something coppery clinging to the walls like a ghost. Leon moved cautiously through the ruined corridor, his muscles coiled tight, every nerve on edge. The building was supposed to be abandoned, but the warmth in the air told a different story.

Then he heard it—a breath. Soft, measured, deliberate.

His flashlight swept over the darkness, catching movement just out of reach. A figure. A woman. Half-shrouded in shadow, leaning against the doorframe at the end of the hall. The dim light carved sharp angles across her face, her lips just barely parted, her gaze locked onto his like a predator sizing up its prey.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she murmured, voice smooth, almost teasing. But there was something else in it—something just beneath the surface.

Leon’s grip on his gun tightened. “Neither should you.”

She took a slow step forward, bare feet soundless against the rotting floorboards and Leon wondered why her feet were bare. The moment stretched, thick with something he didn’t want to name. Danger. Desire. A pull that felt just as deadly as whatever lurked in the shadows behind her.

Then, she smiled—and the blood on her hands dripped onto the floor.