Mira's POV
I didn't start researching the supernatural because I believed in it.
I started because logic was failing me.
Logic said stalkers escalated predictably. That fear dulled over time. That powerful men on television didn't bend the air around them or make your pulse feel like it was responding to something older than thought.
Logic said a man couldn't disappear between passing headlights.
And yet.
It was past midnight when I finally admitted defeat and opened my laptop, the glow of the screen casting pale light across my bedroom. I told myself I was indulging curiosity. Humor. A childhood obsession resurfacing for no real reason.
That lie tasted thin.
I typed carefully, fingers hovering before committing.
Unexplained sensations when near certain people.
Delete.
Feeling watched without evidence.
Delete.
I exhaled sharply.
Finally, I typed:
Why do some people feel dangerous for no reason.
The results were… disappointing.
Psychology articles. Trauma responses. Anxiety disorders. Intuition versus paranoia. All reasonable. All hollow.
I scrolled anyway.
Then—buried beneath clinical language and dismissive disclaimers—I found a forum. Old. Poorly formatted. Anonymous.
Thread Title:Predators in Human Skin
My heart thudded.
I clicked.
The post was years old, written by someone who sounded unhinged—until they didn't.
"You don't know until you're near them. The air changes. Your body reacts first. Cold or heat, pressure, silence. They don't stalk like humans do. They wait."
My breath caught.
I scrolled faster.
"They are careful. Ancient careful. They don't leave proof. They leave patterns."
I slammed the laptop shut.
"Nope," I whispered.
I pressed my palms into my eyes, heart racing. This was ridiculous. Internet nonsense designed to prey on fear. I knew better.
Still… my skin prickled.
I stood abruptly and crossed the room, pacing. My reflection stared back at me from the darkened window—wide-eyed, unsettled.
"You're spiraling," I told myself.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand.
I froze.
Unknown Number.
I didn't pick it up immediately. I let it buzz itself into silence.
Then again.
And again.
My chest tightened.
Finally, with a shaky breath, I grabbed it.
Unknown Number:
You're asking the wrong questions.
Ice slid down my spine.
Mira:
How do you know what I'm doing.
The reply didn't come immediately.
Seconds stretched.
Then—
Because you're closer than you think.
I dropped onto the bed, pulse roaring.
Mira:
This isn't funny.
I'm not laughing.
I stared at the words until they blurred.
For the first time in years, I didn't feel like prey.
I felt like a variable.
And that scared me more.
Damion's POV
I felt it the moment she crossed the line.
Not physically. Not spiritually.
Mentally.
Curiosity sharpened into intent.
Mira Ross was no longer reacting—she was seeking.
That made her dangerous.
I stood in the dark of my penthouse, city lights bleeding through the glass walls, my jaw clenched tight enough to fracture stone. The glass I'd broken earlier still lay scattered across the floor, blood drying into something dull and wasted.
I hadn't cleaned it.
I hadn't fed.
Both were mistakes.
Magnus stood across the room, arms crossed, watching me with the infuriating calm of someone who hadn't yet decided how much trouble he wanted to cause.
"She's digging," he said.
"I know."
"You could stop her."
"Yes."
"But you won't."
I turned on him slowly. "Careful."
Magnus smiled faintly. "There it is. That look. I remember it."
"Do not compare this to—"
"To the last time you broke your own rules?" he finished. "I'm not. This is worse."
"She doesn't know enough," I said tightly.
"But she will."
Silence pressed down on us.
"She's awake now," Magnus continued. "You felt it. The shift."
"Yes."
"And you're still doing nothing."
I clenched my fists. "I am containing it."
"By starving yourself?"
"That's none of your concern."
Magnus stepped closer. "You're older than me, Damion. You taught me restraint. Strategy. Distance. And now you're letting proximity undo centuries of discipline."
I met his gaze, unflinching. "I won't let her be harmed."
"By whom?" he asked quietly.
I didn't answer.
Because the truth was unbearable.
By me.
Mira's POV
The next day, I couldn't shake the feeling that the city was leaning toward me.
Every sound felt louder. Every reflection sharper. People's movements seemed… delayed, like they were half a second behind where they should be.
I blamed lack of sleep.
At least until the elevator incident.
I was alone in the private lift descending from a board meeting when the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then—darkness.
The elevator stopped.
My heart jumped into my throat.
"Hello?" I called, absurdly.
Silence answered.
I reached for my phone—and stopped.
The temperature dropped.
Not gradually.
Instantly.
The air pressed in, heavy and unfamiliar. My breath fogged faintly in front of me.
"Okay," I whispered. "This isn't funny."
A presence brushed the edge of my awareness.
Not touching.
Hovering.
Then—a voice, low and unfamiliar, spoke from just beyond the darkness.
"Breathe."
I gasped, spinning.
The lights flickered back on.
The elevator resumed its descent like nothing had happened.
I stood frozen, heart hammering, staring at my own reflection in the mirrored walls.
I was alone.
I knew that.
And yet…
When the doors finally opened, I stumbled out, legs weak, pulse racing.
Across the lobby, near the glass doors, a man stood watching the street.
Tall. Dark-haired. Broad shoulders.
He turned his head slightly—as if sensing me.
Our eyes met.
The same electric snap as before.
This time, closer.
Too close.
My breath caught.
He didn't smile.
Didn't approach.
Just watched me like I was something newly discovered.
Then my phone rang.
I flinched, breaking eye contact.
When I looked back—
He was gone.
Magnus's POV
She was braver than I expected.
That pleased me.
I'd felt her panic in the elevator—the spike of fear, the refusal to collapse under it. Most humans would have screamed. Fainted. Broken.
Mira Ross steadied herself.
Interesting.
I slipped into the crowd outside the building, vanishing easily. I wasn't ready to meet her—not yet. Damion would feel it immediately if I crossed that line.
But proximity?
Proximity was harmless.
Mostly.
"You were reckless," Damion said behind me the moment I returned to the rooftop.
"I didn't touch her," I replied calmly.
"You spoke."
"I grounded her."
"You interfered."
"She needed it."
His eyes burned. "You don't decide that."
"I do when you refuse to," Magnus shot back. "She's not fragile. Stop treating her like she is."
"She's human."
"And?" I tilted my head. "So was the last one you loved."
Silence.
Heavy. Old. Dangerous.
"Leave her alone," Damion said finally.
I studied him, really studied him.
"You're going to have to choose," I said softly.
"Between what?"
"Control," I replied, "and truth."
Mira's POV
I didn't tell anyone about the elevator.
I didn't tell my parents. My brothers. Jake.
Somehow, I knew—instinctively—that once I said it out loud, it would become real in a way I wasn't ready for.
Instead, I went back to the forums.
Back to the stories.
Patterns.
Predators.
Immortals hiding in plain sight.
I didn't believe it.
But I didn't dismiss it either.
And that was new.
That night, my phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number:
You're not afraid anymore.
I stared at the screen.
Mira:
You don't get to decide that.
A pause.
Then—
No. But I can feel it.
My fingers hovered.
Mira:
What are you.
The reply took longer than ever before.
Long enough that I thought—hoped—it wouldn't come.
Then my phone buzzed.
Someone who should have stayed away.
My breath hitched.
Outside my window, the city glowed red with reflected light.
And somewhere deep inside me, a terrible, thrilling realization took root.
Whatever was watching me…
…it wasn't done waiting.