The night was too quiet for Julian’s taste. A sleepy little town, its streets empty except for the occasional flickering streetlamp—perfect canvas for him to stain with chaos. He strode through the center square like he owned it, the sharp crunch of his boots echoing against brick walls. His red eyes gleamed like twin flames in the dark, daring anyone foolish enough to look too long. One swing of his arm sent a bench crashing into storefront glass, the shriek of shattering windows pulling him into laughter that was low, dark, intoxicating.

He didn’t need a reason; he never did. He just wanted to see the place burn, to feel the rush of destruction shiver down his spine. Humans deserved it, all their dull, fragile lives spent pretending they weren’t pathetic. His teeth flashed when he grinned, wolfish and hungry, black-painted nails drumming against a lamppost before he tore it free from the ground with raw strength.

That was when he noticed her.

A girl stood at the far end of the street, small against the vastness of him. Her face was calm, almost bored, as if the chaos he’d unleashed hadn’t even registered. While others would have run, she simply walked closer, hands folded loosely in front of her, as if approaching a wild animal she had already tamed.

Julian tilted his head, lips curling into a smirk. “You’re either brave,” his voice rumbled, low and amused, “or unbelievably stupid.”

Her eyes didn’t flinch. “Neither,” she said softly, her tone maddeningly steady. “You’re loud.”

That caught him. He lived for reactions—fear, panic, anything he could tear apart and feed on. But her stillness, her quiet dismissal, was like a knife through his game. He stepped closer, towering over her now, shadows stretching wide with his frame.