Magnus's POV
Humans left trails.
They thought they were invisible—buried beneath money, influence, and curated reputations—but everything they did echoed somewhere. A name spoken too often. A glance held too long. A secret guarded too tightly.
Mira Ross left more echoes than most.
I didn't need to meet her to know that.
By the time the city lights began to dim and the gala faded into memory, I was already seated in my private office, scrolling through files that weren't supposed to exist. Security footage. Academic records. Medical histories. Articles scrubbed from public view.
She was everywhere.
Top of her class. Fluent in three languages. Board-trained since adolescence. No scandals. No addictions. No reckless behavior beyond the occasional paparazzi-friendly outing.
Perfect.
I hated perfect.
Perfection was either manufactured… or hiding something.
"You're obsessed," a voice murmured from the shadows.
I didn't look up. "You're projecting."
Damion stood near the window, coat already on, posture rigid with restraint. He hadn't fed tonight—I could tell. His control always tightened when he didn't.
"You said she was irrelevant," I continued casually. "And yet here we are."
"I told you not to dig."
"That wasn't a request," I replied, finally lifting my gaze. "That was fear."
His eyes darkened. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Then enlighten me," I said. "Why her?"
Silence.
Interesting.
I leaned back, folding my arms. "She's human. Fragile. Surrounded by protection. Not naïve. Not desperate. Not the type you usually… tolerate."
His jaw tightened.
"She's curious," I continued. "About things she shouldn't be."
That got his attention.
I watched the shift in his expression—minute, fleeting, but unmistakable.
"You noticed it too," I said softly.
Damion turned away. "Drop it."
"I can't," I admitted. "Because whatever this is… it's already moving."
He didn't respond.
But neither did he deny it.
Mira's POV
Sleep refused to come.
I lay on my side, staring at the faint glow of the city beyond my curtains, my thoughts tangled and restless. The house was quiet—too quiet. My parents were asleep. My brothers had retired hours ago.
And yet, I felt… awake.
Not alert. Not anxious.
Just aware.
I rolled onto my back and checked my phone again.
Still nothing.
It was stupid, the way my chest tightened at the empty screen. I hated that a part of me expected the message. Hated that silence felt like anticipation.
I tossed the phone aside and closed my eyes.
That's when my phone buzzed.
My breath caught.
Unknown Number:
You looked beautiful tonight.
My heart slammed violently against my ribs.
I sat up, fingers trembling as I typed back before I could stop myself.
Mira:
Who is this.
The reply came instantly.
You already know.
Cold crept down my spine.
Mira:
Stop this. I'm serious.
A pause.
Then—
You always say that.
My stomach twisted.
I typed again, slower this time.
Mira:
How did you know where I was.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Then—
I pay attention.
I dropped the phone onto the bed like it burned.
No. No, no, no.
This was nothing new. I'd dealt with this before. Years of messages, vague threats, unsettling familiarity. The police had never found anything concrete. No numbers traced. No faces attached.
Still… tonight felt different.
I forced myself to breathe.
Damion King had nothing to do with this.
I didn't know why the thought even crossed my mind—but I crushed it immediately. He was a public figure. A CEO. A man who barely looked human under all that polish.
This was just my paranoia spiraling.
I powered my phone off.
And tried to sleep.
Damion's POV
She didn't sleep.
I knew it without seeing her.
The night hummed differently when she was awake—her restlessness echoing faintly through the city, through streets and walls and distance that meant nothing to me.
I stood in my penthouse, glass walls stretching toward the sky, the city pulsing below like a living thing. I hadn't fed. I didn't need to.
Control tasted better tonight.
Magnus's words replayed in my mind.
Whatever this is… it's already moving.
He wasn't wrong.
Things had shifted the moment I stepped into that ballroom. The moment Mira Ross looked at me and didn't look away.
She was closer now.
Not physically.
But fate had a way of tightening its grip.
I lifted my glass, watching the liquid catch the light—dark, thick, human. I didn't drink.
Instead, I set it aside untouched.
Mira's POV
The next morning, I chalked everything up to exhaustion.
That's what rational people did.
I showered, dressed, and prepared for the day like nothing had happened. Meetings. Calls. Press briefings. The world waited for Mira Ross to perform—and I obliged.
Still, small things felt… off.
The elevator in our building stalled for exactly three seconds longer than usual.
The barista at my favorite café stared at me like she was seeing a ghost.
And when I glanced at the TV mounted above the counter, Damion King's face filled the screen mid-interview.
I froze.
"—innovation isn't about control," he was saying calmly. "It's about restraint."
His gaze shifted slightly, just enough to feel intentional.
My pulse jumped.
The barista cleared her throat. "Your order."
I nodded quickly, tearing my eyes away.
Coincidence.
Just coincidence.
Magnus's POV
She fascinated me.
Not because she was beautiful—humans always were, in one way or another—but because she didn't fold under pressure. Most would have cracked by now. Years of being watched. Messages. Fear lurking just beneath the surface.
Mira Ross endured.
That made her dangerous.
I closed the file and leaned back, considering.
Damion wouldn't protect something this fiercely without reason.
And I was going to find out why.
Mira's POV
That evening, my phone buzzed again.
I hadn't powered it off this time.
Unknown Number:
Did you sleep well?
I stared at the screen, pulse roaring in my ears.
Mira:
You don't get to ask me that.
The reply came slower this time.
You're right.
A pause.
Then—
Forgive me.
That unsettled me more than any threat ever had.
I locked my phone and set it face down.
Outside, the sun dipped low, painting the city in shades of red.
Somewhere deep in my chest, a quiet, terrible certainty settled in.
This wasn't going to stop.
And somehow—whether I liked it or not—
My life had already begun to orbit something dark.