The streetlights outside the hospital flickered to life, casting a pale orange glow across the empty parking lot. The air was thick with the scent of rain that hadn't yet fallen — heavy, electric.
Damien leaned against the hood of a dark sedan, his fingers tapping a slow, rhythmic beat on the metal. He looked relaxed, but his eyes — dark and sharp — were locked on the clinic entrance like a predator waiting for a signal.
The hospital had begun to quiet down for the night. The last few patients were trickling out, doctors leaving one by one.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
"Are you ready for it?" Viktor's voice came through, low and steady.
Damien's gaze didn't waver. "Yes."
"You're sure about this?"
Damien's lips curved faintly, though there was no warmth in it. "I've never been more sure."
Viktor sighed. "Alright then… your call."
"Stay sharp," Damien said, voice soft but precise. "She's coming out any second."
He hung up, slipping the phone away. His fingers flexed once, twice — like a pianist preparing before a performance.
The glass door swung open.
Dr. Evelyn Morgan stepped out aria's mother, shoulders slumped from exhaustion, her white coat fluttering slightly in the night breeze. She rummaged through her handbag, searching for her car keys as she descended the gentle slope of the parking lot.
A few meters above her, a silver car sat idly on the incline — just loose enough to roll if given a nudge.
Viktor's shadow shifted from a distance.
The sound came first — a faint creak of metal, then the soft rumble of tires against asphalt.
Evelyn didn't notice. Her attention stayed buried in her bag, lips murmuring to herself. "Where did I put them…"
Damien's body tensed. Then he moved.
In a flash, he dashed forward — fast, fluid, precise. His boots hit the pavement hard as he reached her just as the car gained momentum.
He lunged, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her out of the path. The car sped past, scraping against the side mirror of another vehicle before crashing into a light pole with a metallic shriek.
The sound echoed across the parking lot.
Evelyn stumbled, almost falling, but Damien steadied her.
"Are you alright?" His voice was calm, soft — the tone of someone genuinely concerned.
She blinked up at him, still shocked. "What… what just happened?"
"The car—it slipped down the slope," he said, glancing at the wreck. "You were standing right in its path."
Her eyes widened as she realized how close it had been. "Oh my God… I didn't even…"
Then she saw it — the thin trail of blood along his hand.
"Your hand!" she gasped.
He looked down, almost as if he'd just noticed it. The skin on his palm was scraped, small pebbles pressed into it. "It's nothing."
"Nothing? You're bleeding!" She crouched, pulling a small medical pouch from her bag, the professional instinct kicking in.
He smiled faintly, trying to ease her worry. "Really, I'm okay. You should rest for a minute—"
"Stop talking," she said, gently taking his hand. Her tone wasn't harsh, but firm — a mother's tone. "You could've been badly hurt because of me."
He chuckled softly. "I'll live."
As she cleaned the wound, she kept glancing up at him. His expression was calm, collected, too mature for someone who looked barely in his twenties.
When she was done, she let out a small sigh. "You were incredibly lucky. And brave."
He shrugged. "Anyone would've done it."
She smiled faintly. "No, not anyone."
She reached for the clinic door, but it was already locked. The janitor waved briefly on his way out. "We're closing early tonight, Doctor."
Evelyn sighed, then turned back to Damien. "Of course. Perfect timing."
He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I'll just wash it when I get home."
But guilt lingered in her eyes. "At least let me treat it properly. I have ointment in my car."
Before he could protest, she opened the trunk and retrieved a small kit. She gently applied the ointment and wrapped his hand in clean gauze.
"There," she said softly, tying the bandage neatly. "Not perfect, but it'll do."
Damien smiled. "Thank you."
She returned the smile automatically. "You're polite. That's rare these days."
"My mother raised me well," he replied simply.
Her expression softened. "She must be proud of you."
His gaze flickered, almost too quickly to notice. "She's… not around anymore."
Her hand froze for a second. "Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
He shook his head. "It's alright."
A brief silence passed between them — that kind of quiet that carries unexpected warmth.
Then she said, "Do you live nearby? I could drop you off. You shouldn't walk with that hand."
He hesitated, then smiled. "If it's not too much trouble."
"Of course not."
They got into her car. The parking lot was almost empty now, the hum of the streetlights the only sound left.
"So," she began after a moment, glancing at him, "what do you do? Study? Work?"
"I'm studying," he said easily. "Just joined college here recently."
"Oh?" She smiled, instantly curious. "Which one?"
"Greenwood College."
Her eyes lit up with surprise. "That's where my daughter studies!"
He looked at her, feigning mild surprise. "Really? That's quite a coincidence."
She chuckled. "Her name's Aria Morgan. Maybe you've seen her around?"
He tilted his head, pretending to think. "Aria…" A soft pause. "Light brown hair? Quiet?"
She smiled warmly. "Yes, that's her! You've seen her then?"
"Once or twice, maybe," he lied smoothly. "She seems… kind."
"She is," Evelyn said proudly. "A little reserved, but she's got a good heart."
He nodded. "Good hearts are rare."
For a brief moment, their eyes met — hers filled with maternal warmth, his with quiet intent.
"If you ever need help at college," she added cheerfully, "you can ask her. She's dependable."
He smiled. "That's kind of you. But I'll be fine. I don't usually need help."
"Confident, aren't you?" she teased lightly.
He laughed softly. "I try to be."
The rest of the drive passed in comfortable silence, with occasional bits of small talk — about the hospital, the city, the cold weather coming in.
Finally, she pulled up near a quiet street with older houses and dim streetlights.
He looked out, pretending to recognize the place. "This is perfect. Thank you."
Evelyn smiled, clearly relieved that he was safe. "You take care of that hand, alright?"
"I will."
She hesitated a moment, then asked, "What was your name again?"
"Damien."
"Well, Damien," she said with a soft, motherly smile, "it was nice meeting you. I hope you heal quickly."
He gave a gentle nod. "And thank you, Mrs. Morgan. For everything."
She waved it off. "Don't thank me. You're the one who saved my life tonight."
He smiled again — that perfect, harmless smile that fooled even the most cautious hearts. "I'll see you around."
As her car drove off into the night, Damien stood still under the lamplight, his bandaged hand hanging loosely at his side.
His reflection shimmered faintly in the car's window — the faintest curve of a smirk forming at the corner of his mouth. satisfied with his act.
"Phase one," he whispered to himself.
"Done."
The wind carried his words away into the dark.