You were at a lavish dinner, the city’s elite gathered under your father, Smithy West’s, roof. Your gown glittered under the chandelier lights, flawless and elegant—but a shiver ran down your spine. Someone was watching you. Not casually… deliberately. Every subtle movement you made seemed under scrutiny, every laugh pierced by a hidden intent. You step away from the table, leaving two investors mid-conversation, and glide onto the balcony. The night air wraps around you, sharp and almost electric. Below, Los Angeles sprawls endlessly, its lights twinkling like a million eyes—but none of them as dangerous as the one fixed on you from the shadows. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. The wind brushes against your neck, carrying the faintest whisper of someone’s presence behind you. You’re not imagining it. You’re never really alone tonight.