The city was alive, buzzing with noise and lights. It never slowed down, always rushing forward. But that night, everything felt still, like the world was holding its breath. I stood on the rooftop of a tall building, holding a glass of whiskey I didn't even like. Around me were people from the pack, allies I was supposed to impress, but I didn't care about them.
I stared out at the city below. Cars, people, and endless movement. Somewhere down there was Elliot Reed, though I didn't know his name yet. All I knew was that I couldn't stop looking at him.
It was his laugh that caught my attention. Even from so far away, I heard it. It was light and full of life, so different from the world I knew. He stood at a crosswalk with some friends, laughing and talking like he didn't have a care in the world. He had this energy about him that drew me in, like a magnet.
Without thinking, I put down my glass and walked away from the party. Someone called after me, asking where I was going, but I ignored them. I got into the elevator, left the building, and stepped out onto the crowded street.
The smells of the city hit me right away—gasoline, food, and something metallic. I hated it, but it grounded me as I searched for him. It didn't take long to find him. He was still at the crosswalk, now talking to just one friend. His hands moved as he spoke, and his head tilted when he laughed.
I knew I should walk away. Just forget about him and go back to my life. But I couldn't.
"Excuse me," I said as I walked up to them. My voice sounded calm, even though my chest felt tight. He turned to look at me, and his friend glanced at me with suspicion, but I didn't care about the friend. Only him.
"Yeah?" he said, his tone casual. Up close, he was even brighter. It wasn't just his laugh or his smile. It was like he carried a light with him that I couldn't look away from. For a moment, I didn't know what to say.
"You dropped this," I said, holding out a pen I had grabbed from the lobby table. It wasn't his, but it was the only excuse I could think of.
He looked at the pen, then back at me. "Uh, thanks, but that's not mine."
"Are you sure?" I asked, holding it closer to him.
His friend nudged him. "Let's go, Elliot."
So his name was Elliot. He took a step back, smiling politely but clearly uncomfortable. "Thanks, but I'm pretty sure it's not mine. Have a good night."
He turned to leave, and something twisted inside me. I didn't want him to go. It wasn't anger or frustration. It was sharper than that—a need to keep him near me.
"Wait," I said, stepping closer. Both he and his friend stopped. Elliot looked at me, his eyes wide and uncertain.
Then I saw it. Fear. Just a flicker, but enough to stop me. I didn't want him to fear me.
"Never mind," I said, stepping back. "My mistake."
He nodded, relief washing over his face, and then he walked away with his friend. I stood there, holding the pen, feeling like a fool.
The streets felt colder as I made my way back to the building. The party was still going, loud and chaotic, but I slipped past everyone and headed straight to the elevator. My thoughts were stuck on him—his laugh, his smile, the way he looked at me.
I told myself it was nothing. Just a random encounter. But deep down, I knew it wasn't. It was something more. Something dangerous.
But I wanted more of it.
I couldn't sleep that night. Every time I closed my eyes, his face was there. I could hear his laugh in my head, soft and warm, like a song stuck on repeat. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop thinking about him.
I kept telling myself that humans didn't belong in my world. They were too fragile, too fleeting. But the thoughts wouldn't go away.
The next morning, I found myself back at the crosswalk where I had seen him. The street was busy, people rushing by, lost in their own worlds. I stood there, scanning the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.
It felt stupid. I didn't even know his name. I waited for hours, but there was no sign of him. I was about to give up when I heard his voice.
"You again?"
I spun around, my heart skipping a beat. And there he was. A few feet away, hands in his jacket pockets. His eyes were curious, but there was caution in them too.
"I didn't think I'd see you again," he said, his voice casual, but with a touch of uncertainty.
I didn't think I'd see him again either. But now that I had, I couldn't find the words. Before I could figure out what to say, something changed.
The air around us seemed to shift, a sudden heaviness pressing in. I felt a chill down my spine. I froze. Someone was watching us.
Elliot noticed the change and frowned. "What's wrong?" he asked, concern creeping into his voice.
I didn't answer. My eyes scanned the crowd, trying to find the source of the unease. That's when I saw it—a figure standing across the street, partly hidden in the shadows. I couldn't make out their face, but I felt their gaze like a weight on me.
"Elliot, you need to leave," I said, my voice a little shaky.
"What? Why?" he asked, confused.
"Just go. Now," I insisted, not giving him a chance to argue.
He hesitated, brow furrowed, but before he could say anything else, the figure stepped forward, and the air grew even heavier. My instincts screamed at me to do something, but I couldn't—not with Elliot here.
I clenched my fists, trying to stay calm. This wasn't over. Something dangerous was out there, and it was closer than I wanted to admit.