The city always smelled like rain before dawn—wet asphalt, metal, the faint bite of electricity in the air as if the sky itself held a secret it didn't dare release. Scarlet Monroe stepped out of her apartment building at 5:03 a.m., pulling her hood tighter against the cold breeze curling through the narrow, dimly lit street. She'd slept maybe an hour, though "sleep" was too generous a word. Her body had been still, her eyes shut, but her mind had been wide awake, trapped replaying flashes she couldn't fully understand.
Blood.
A gunshot.
A shadowed figure watching her.
A voice she felt more than heard.
But everything else? Blank. Missing. Stolen.
She hated that the memory loss didn't feel natural. It felt crafted. Like someone had plucked the truth straight out of her skull and left only the fear behind.
Her boots splashed through a shallow puddle as she walked. The street was quiet except for the rumble of a distant train and a stray cat sprinting across the road like it was being chased by ghosts. Scarlet could relate. She didn't know what was coming after her, but she felt its breath on her neck with every step.
She shoved her hands in her pockets, fingers brushing over the object she'd found on her floor last night.
A black card with a scarlet serpent biting its tail.
She'd stared at it for hours, knowing she had seen the symbol before but unable to place when or where. She'd woken up with a bruise around her wrist and no explanation for it. And every time she closed her eyes, she heard a faint whisper, so soft she couldn't tell if it was real.
"Run if you want… I'll always find you."
Thunder crackled in the clear sky above her.
Her steps faltered.
She swallowed.
Kept walking.
The precinct was ten minutes away, but she hadn't decided if she would actually go in. Reporting what? A missing memory? A symbol? A gut feeling that she was being hunted by something she couldn't name?
They'd laugh her out of the lobby. Or worse—they'd lock her in for observation.
Her phone buzzed.
It was 5:04 a.m.
No one called her this early.
No one except—
Unknown Number.
Her stomach tightened.
She answered anyway. "Who is this?"
Silence.
A breath—soft, steady, controlled.
"Scarlet."
Her heart lurched. She knew that voice. She should not know it. She should not recognize it. But her blood recognized it before her mind did.
"Who the hell is this?" she demanded, stepping into the glow of a flickering street lamp.
"You're awake earlier than usual." The voice was smooth. Too smooth. "That's new."
Her pulse hammered.
She glanced around, scanning the shadows between buildings, the dark corners where streetlights didn't reach. She felt watched. Not paranoid—observed. Measured.
"Answer the question," she snapped.
"You don't remember me." It wasn't a question.
The way he said it made her skin prickle.
She shoved her fear down. "Should I?"
A pause. A quiet exhale, like amusement, or disappointment, or both.
"You should remember many things," he said softly. "But they took that from you."
Her blood froze.
They.
There was a they.
"Who are you?" she whispered.
The line crackled faintly. Then he spoke again, voice dropping to a murmur that felt like warm breath against her ear.
"Turn around."
Scarlet's throat closed.
No. No. She wasn't going to fall for that. She wasn't going to look—
Her body moved before she made the decision.
She turned.
And there, standing at the end of the street, half hidden by the shadows cast from an overhanging balcony, was a man.
Tall.
Dark coat.
Hands in his pockets.
Still as a statue.
Watching her.
Her breath hitched.
He didn't move. Didn't speak. Didn't blink. Just stared at her with the kind of unwavering presence that felt like pressure on her skin.
There was something terribly familiar about the shape of him. The posture. The aura. A memory tugged at her mind—a whisper of a whisper. But nothing solid.
Her voice shook. "Is that—are you—?"
The line went dead.
She lowered the phone slowly, her eyes locked on the figure at the end of the street. He didn't step closer. Didn't retreat. Just stood there, as if waiting for her to make a move.
Scarlet forced herself not to run. Running would show fear. And predators chased fear.
She inhaled deeply, sharpened her gaze, and took a step forward.
At the same moment, headlights cut through the alley from behind her. A car horn blared. Scarlet jumped aside on instinct. By the time she turned back—
He was gone.
Vanished like he'd been carved from shadow and returned to it.
Her pulse thudded painfully. She stared at the empty space for several long seconds before pulling her hood down lower and walking—fast—toward the main road. Her mind replayed what she'd seen, comparing it with the fragmented memories she had left.
Was that the same man from the warehouse?
The man with the obsidian eyes?
The man whose voice reached into her nightmares and dragged her awake?
No. It couldn't be. It shouldn't be.
But the fear sitting in her stomach whispered the truth.
It was him.
And he was closer than she realized.
---
The precinct sat on a corner three blocks down, its pale lights glowing faintly through the early morning haze. Scarlet slowed as she approached. Her instincts tugged her backward, telling her not to go inside. Not yet. Not with this much uncertainty gnawing at her.
She stopped at the curb, debating.
That was when someone called her name.
"Scarlet?"
She turned sharply.
Detective Liana Rhodes jogged across the street toward her, coffee in one hand, the other raised in greeting. Scarlet exhaled, tension slipping out of her shoulders.
"Morning," Scarlet said.
Liana stopped in front of her, eyeing her carefully. "You look like you haven't slept in a week."
"Feels like it." Scarlet forced a small smile.
"You okay?"
Scarlet hesitated.
No.
Nothing was okay.
A stranger was calling her from hidden numbers.
A man was watching her in the street.
Her memories were missing.
Her wrist was bruised.
Her nightmares whispered her name.
She had found a symbol linked to the city's most dangerous underground faction and had no explanation for how it ended up in her possession.
But she couldn't tell Liana any of that. Not without sounding insane—or worse, endangered.
"I'm fine," Scarlet lied. "Just… rough night."
Liana didn't look convinced, but she didn't push. "Look, we've been drowning in cases. If you need time off—"
"No," Scarlet cut her off. "I want to work."
"You sure? Because honestly, you look like the kind of tired that comes with bad decisions."
Scarlet's heart skipped.
She had made no decisions last night.
And yet she had awakened with evidence of a night she couldn't remember.
"I'm sure," Scarlet said firmly.
Liana raised a brow, sipped her coffee, and started walking toward the entrance. "Come on. We've got a briefing at six."
Scarlet followed, though her feet felt heavier with every step.
As they reached the stairs, something glinted beneath the railing. Scarlet's eyes caught the shine. She paused.
Another card.
Black.
Scarlet serpent.
Her breath froze in her chest.
Liana glanced back. "Scarlet?"
Scarlet swallowed. "I—I dropped something."
Liana shrugged and headed inside.
Scarlet bent down and picked up the card with shaking fingers. It was identical to the one she had found last night.
Someone had been here.
Someone had come this close.
Someone had placed this here for her to find.
She slipped the card into her pocket and forced herself to walk into the building as calmly as possible.
But the moment the doors shut behind her, she felt a weight settle on her chest.
Someone wasn't just watching her.
Someone was marking her.
Claiming her.
---
The day blurred by slower than usual. Scarlet sat at her desk surrounded by files she couldn't focus on. Every sound felt louder, sharper. The low conversations across the room. The hum of the air conditioner. The tapping of Liana's pen beside her.
Everything felt wrong.
At 11:16 a.m., she caught a glimpse of movement outside the glass doors of the precinct. Her eyes snapped up.
A tall, dark figure stood across the street, leaning casually against a lamppost, as if he hadn't a care in the world.
Her blood turned to ice.
Him.
Adrian Vale—though she didn't know his name yet. She only recognized the silhouette.
He was watching her through the window. Not glaring. Not threatening. Just watching, like she was the only thing worth observing in the entire city.
Scarlet stood from her desk abruptly, chair scraping loudly.
Liana looked up. "Everything okay?"
Scarlet didn't answer.
She walked out of the precinct lobby doors, ignoring the security guard who asked where she was going. Her heart pounded like it was trying to claw out of her chest.
But when she reached the sidewalk—
He was gone.
Disappeared again.
Just like the morning.
Just like the night before.
Just like a shadow.
"Scarlet?"
Liana's voice behind her made her jump.
Scarlet turned. "I thought I saw someone."
"Who?"
"I… don't know."
Liana studied her face, her brow furrowing. "You sure you're okay?"
Scarlet opened her mouth to respond.
But the answer never left her lips.
Because a cold breeze swept around her legs, carrying with it a faint whisper. So faint she thought she imagined it. But it wrapped around her like smoke.
"You shouldn't ignore me."
Her breath stilled.
Scarlet looked around wildly, scanning every corner, every alley, every rooftop.
Nothing.
No one.
Just the city breathing around her.
Liana touched her arm gently. "Scarlet…"
Scarlet pulled back. "I'm fine. I just need air."
She turned and started walking down the street, not waiting for Liana to follow.
Her feet carried her aimlessly, her mind spinning.
Someone knew her.
Someone wanted her attention.
Someone was following her movements closely—too closely.
Someone had been close enough to leave a card beneath the precinct stairs.
And someone whispered to her like he had the right to.
Scarlet leaned against a brick wall and pressed a hand to her forehead.
"Think," she whispered to herself.
But thinking was like trying to grasp smoke.
She didn't know who the man was.
She didn't know what he wanted.
She didn't know why her memories were gone.
She didn't know why she felt… connected to him.
And that terrified her more than anything.
Because connection was dangerous.
Connection meant vulnerability.
Vulnerability got people killed.
A car horn snapped her out of her thoughts.
She straightened slowly.
She needed answers.
She needed clarity.
She needed sleep, maybe.
She needed—
Movement flickered to her right.
She whipped her head toward the alley.
And stepped back when she saw him.
Standing there.
Close enough to reach out and touch.
Close enough to steal her breath.
He stepped forward, the dim light sliding across his features for the first time.
Sharp jaw.
Dark eyes.
Expression unreadable.
Presence overwhelming.
Adrian Vale.
Scarlet didn't know his name yet, but she felt him like a storm breaking open the sky.
She opened her mouth—fear, shock, confusion all tangled inside her.
He spoke first.
Three words.
Soft.
Certain.
Inevitable.
"Hello again, Scarlet."
Her entire world stopped.