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I groaned under my breath, thinking about the faceless killer who had weaved themselves into the fabric of our community, only to tear it apart with their savagery. They preyed on vulnerability, on bright lives full of color, blowing them out as though they were nothing but dying embers. Their latest victim, Aria—Celeste's beacon in this shitstorm of a world—was gone, and it was a loss that would leave scars too deep for any brushstroke to heal.
The anger bubbled up inside me like molten lava. This fucker had no idea what was coming for them. I was the judge and jury, and I'd become their executioner with a goddamn smile on my face.
I neared her room, my heart hammering against my chest like it wanted to break free. The thin glass stood between me and Celeste, a flimsy barrier that did jack shit to protect her from the darkness that lurked just beyond the safety of these walls. There she lay, motionless on the hospital bed, her hair fanned out like a halo of flames against the stark white pillow—my very own sleeping beauty trapped in an urban nightmare.
"Damn it, Celeste," I murmured. She shouldn't have been the one lying there, paying the price for someone else's twisted game.
A cop stood guard by her door, the embodiment of false security. He probably thought he was the big man on campus, ready to take on whatever boogeyman came for her next. But he was clueless—a babe in the woods. If the killer decided to waltz back into her life, this rent-a-cop wouldn't stand a chance.
Idiots. I scowled at the officer, who seemed more interested in the contents of his phone than in the vulnerable woman behind the curtain. My hands itched to grab him by the collar and shake some goddamn sense into him.
But I needed stealth, not a brawl. So, I hung back in the shadows, watching. Waiting. Because when it came down to it, Celeste wasn't just another name on a long list of victims. No, she was more, even if I was still figuring out the fucked-up hows and whys of it all.
I couldn't afford to get sidetracked by emotions or desires—not when there was a hunter in our midst, and we—the monsters of Chicago—had become the hunted.
The moment that cop lumbered off for his caffeine fix, I slipped into Celeste's room like a shadow chasing the light. Hospitals, with their antiseptic sting and the relentless beep of monitors, were enough to set anyone on edge, but the sight of her lying there, so fucking still, twisted my insides.
"Damn it, Celeste," I murmured, my voice barely above the hum of machinery. Even unconscious, she looked every bit the fighter I knew her to be, her chest rising and falling with a rhythm that kept the reaper at bay. The soft glow from the monitor painted her in an ethereal light.
I moved closer, my steps silent despite the chaos raging inside me. Her skin was pale, compared to its normal dark hues, against the stark white sheets, but it was her steadiness in sleep that offered me a crumb of relief. There was a peace about her that pissed me off—because it was a lie. Her world had been shattered, turned to ash by some sick fuck who thought they could play god.
I should've been there. I growled in my mind, cursing myself for the thousandth time. If I hadn't let desire cloud my judgment, if I'd been one step ahead?—
Cut the crap. I snapped, cutting off the spiral before it could start. Guilt was a luxury, and I wasn't in the market for self-pity.
Leaning over her, I watched her face, searching for any sign of distress. But she was out cold, locked away in a place I couldn't reach. It grated on me, not knowing what haunted her dreams or if she felt safe even here, surrounded by white coats and watchful eyes.
I sighed as relief poured through me—a sharp contrast to the anger that had clawed at my chest moments ago. She was alive, more than I could say for Aria, may the earth rest her soul. And I’d be damned if I let anyone else pay the price for this city's sins.
Without thinking, I brushed back a strand of her hair, letting my lips graze her forehead in a promise I intended to keep. "I've got you," I vowed, each word a silent oath etched in the darkness.
But promises were cheap, and I knew the cost of failure all too well. With one last look at Celeste, I backed away, the kiss lingering like a brand on my skin. I needed to move, to hunt, to make sure that when she woke up, she wouldn't have to fear the night—or the monsters waiting within it.
I slipped out of the room like a shadow peeling away from its master. The sterile scent of antiseptic hung in the air, mocking me with its promise of safety—a damn lie in these halls. I couldn’t afford to get caught, not when every second squandered was a second closer to hell for Celeste.
I cursed under my breath, dodging a gurney that nearly clipped my side. It was close—too damn close—and it wasn't just the reaper breathing down our necks. It was incompetence, the kind that let killers slip through the cracks while the innocent bled out on cold, indifferent tiles.
I hit the stairwell two steps at a time, the echo of my footsteps a steady rhythm in the concrete tomb. The hunter was becoming the hunted, and if I didn't play this right, Celeste would be the one torn apart by the beast.
Bursting through the door to the street, the night swallowed me whole. Chicago’s skyline loomed overhead, a jagged silhouette of steel and secrets. My city, my battleground—the place where monsters wore human skin and preyed on the vulnerable.
A short sprint and I was back at my sanctuary, a nondescript building lost among the endless rows of urban decay. The door slammed behind me, sealing off the outside world.
"Talk to me,” I barked as I strode into the dimly lit war room. Screens flickered with data, mapping the arteries of a city infected with corruption.
"Nothing new, boss," came the terse reply. "We're combing through Aria's life—every damn detail."
"Dig deeper!" I snarled, my eyes scanning the network of information sprawled before me. "Some son of a bitch thinks he can play God, picking off who lives and dies. We'll show him how mortal he really is."
The team worked their tech magic. Keyboards clacked like a morbid symphony, each note uncovering another layer of the filth that hid beneath the city’s glittering fingernails.
"Any word on the cop watching Celeste?" I asked, grinding my teeth to keep from screaming.
"Shift change in twenty," someone replied without looking up, too engrossed in their screen.
"Good," I muttered, my mind racing through scenarios, plans forming and warping with every new piece of intel. Every fiber of my being screamed for action, but this wasn't a game of brute force. No, this was chess with flesh and blood pawns, and I'd be damned if I let Celeste become a sacrifice.
"Keep on it," I commanded, my voice cold as the grave. "I want names, places—anything that'll lead us to this bastard."
