The club was louder than usual.
Laughter, music, heels on marble—it all blurred together like a city that didn't know how to sleep.
Ayla kept her head down, moving through her shift like she always did. But something felt off.
Like someone was watching her.
Not Leon.
Someone else.
⸻
It started small.
A drink left at her station with no name.
A rose left in her locker, petals bruised.
A note, unsigned.
"Red suits you. I'll see you again soon."
She showed the note to her manager, but he just shrugged. "Probably some drunk guy trying to be romantic."
But it didn't feel like romance.
It felt like a warning.
⸻
She thought of telling Leon.
But what would she say?
Hey, the man who terrifies everyone… can you protect me from another man I don't even know?
She didn't want to look weak.
Didn't want him to think she was scared.
But she was.
⸻
After her shift, Ayla stepped outside, ready to walk home.
That's when she saw it.
A man across the street, leaning against a lamppost.
Not moving. Not blinking.
Just watching.
Her heart pounded.
She turned back inside—only to bump into someone hard.
Hands caught her shoulders, steadying her.
Her breath caught.
Leon.
⸻
His eyes swept her face, then shifted to the figure across the street.
Gone.
"You saw him?" Ayla whispered.
Leon's jaw tightened. "Go inside. Now."
She didn't argue.
Didn't ask questions.
But as the door shut behind her, one thought echoed louder than the music inside:
This time, Leon wasn't the only one watching her.