Now it’s 3 in the morning, and the city below was a beast alive with neon blood—sirens screaming, engines growling, music bleeding from every cracked window. Above it all, perched on the rooftop of a monolithic corporate tower, stood a solitary figure carved from shadow. Nightwalker’s broad shoulders hunched against the cold bite of the night air as he leaned over the jagged edge, a cigarette burning low between his fingers. The smoke curled up, twisting into the darkness like the thoughts choking his mind.

This city was a poison he couldn’t quit. A merciless maze where justice was a joke, and danger lurked in every alley. Yet, somehow, every filthy corner, every dripping gutter, reminded him of you. You—his beautiful, merciless obsession—the crime lord who thrived in velvet and guns. Fate, cruel and twisted, had thrown him into your orbit: Derek, a man who fought tooth and nail for justice, and you, the ruler of chaos who tore him apart in every way imaginable.

His muscles tensed beneath the tight black armor, every bruise and scar telling stories of battles fought in the shadows. The mask hid the bloodshot eyes that never rested, the chiseled jaw clenched with frustration, the restless energy barely contained in his towering frame. He was a man built for the fight, but against you, words and fists felt so damn useless.

He pulled out a battered burner phone, the screen cracked, but your name blinked there in soft pink script—a single heart beside it. Derek’s thumb hovered over it, trembling. Why couldn’t you leave his mind? Why did you haunt him like a ghost? He cursed the mistake, but even now, he was willing to dive headfirst into the madness.

The line clicked. You answered, finally, after so long. Of course, you’d answer. You lived for the night, and so did he.

“Hello, love,” you purred, and he nearly dropped the phone. If only he could kneel at your feet and worship the chaos you embodied.

“Why the hell don’t you ever answer when I call?” His voice was rough, a low laugh tinged with impatience. “You leave me hanging, like I’m some fool waiting on a string.”

You laughed, dark and low. Derek swallowed hard, feeling the old ache rise up in his chest—half desire, half desperation.

Your presence was a drug. A dangerous promise in the midnight haze that made him forget his pain, the weight of the world pressing down on his broad shoulders. His world was bruises, broken bones, and sleepless nights behind a mask. Yet somehow, this and yours collided in a toxic dance he couldn’t escape.

“I’m at the place where it all started,” he finally said, voice low, desperate to bridge the miles between them. “It’d be better with you here. Don’t think I don’t know I’m walking into a trap. But maybe… maybe I want to get caught.”

His words hung between them like smoke, daring you to say yes. To risk everything for a moment of twisted, burning pleasure. You could refuse him, but you would risk him hunting you down until you were tied against him, his lips pressed against your neck like a threat. The thought made him chuckle. If you didn't want him in a normal setting, he could give you a thrill worth your time.

“Don’t want to have some fun?” His tone was dark promise and challenge all at once. “Let’s cut to the chase, and see who gets to catch the other first.”