Elira Vale learned early that the city did not punish you for being cruel.
It punished you for being broke.
The hospital corridor smelled like disinfectant and old sweat, like bleach trying to erase what it never could. Night shift had bled into morning shift, and her feet throbbed with a dull, constant ache that made every step feel borrowed from someone else's body.
A child cried behind a curtain. A monitor beeped, steady and unforgiving. Somewhere down the hall, a doctor laughed too loudly, the sound brittle with exhaustion.
Elira kept her face calm. She did not let her shoulders sag. She had learned how to carry pressure quietly, how to make suffering invisible enough that no one thought to question it.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket.
Once.
Twice.
Then again.
She exhaled slowly and stepped into the supply closet, shutting the door behind her. The space was narrow and overheated, metal shelves pressing close. Her fingers shook as she pulled the phone out.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
Her stomach dropped anyway.
She answered without speaking.
Breathing filled the line. Slow. Deliberate.
Then a man's voice, low and faintly amused.
"Elira Vale."
Her name sounded wrong in his mouth. Like something he owned.
"I don't know you," she said.
A soft laugh. "You know the debt."
Her throat tightened. She pressed her back against the shelf.
"I'm paying," Elira said. "I'm doing what I can."
"You're paying what you want," he replied. "And what you want has never mattered."
She closed her eyes. She could picture him without seeing him. Men like this always sounded the same. Calm. Certain. Untouchable.
"You're behind again," he continued. "And I'm tired of chasing you."
"I'm working," Elira snapped. "I'm on shift right now."
"Good," he said. "That means you're awake and listening."
Her jaw clenched.
"Here's what's going to happen," he went on. "You're going to clear this. Tonight."
"I don't have that kind of money."
"You will."
The silence stretched until it hurt.
"There's an opportunity," he said. "Private medical study. Off-books. One night. Ten minutes of your time."
"I don't do illegal."
"You already are," he said smoothly. "You just call it survival."
Her mind flickered through images she tried not to dwell on. The eviction notice, folded and unfolded, lay on her kitchen table. Her mother's hospital bed. The way grief had come with invoices attached.
"What do they want?" Elira asked quietly.
"They want your blood."
Her eyes snapped open. "What?"
"A draw," he said. "A sample. That's it."
Her skin crawled.
"They want you specifically," he added. "Female. Healthy. No chronic conditions. No autoimmune issues."
Too precise. Too informed.
"How do they know all that?" she whispered.
"Because you owe me," he said. "And you've been late."
Rage surged, sharp and helpless.
"You can't—"
"I can," he cut in. "And I will."
Her pulse thundered in her ears.
"I need details," she said.
"Tonight. Eleven. Address I'm sending. You don't bring anyone. You don't ask questions." His voice hardened. "If you back out, I stop coming for money and start coming for what you're protecting."
The call ended.
Her phone buzzed immediately after.
An address. A time.
One final line beneath it.
Don't be brave. Be smart.
Elira slid the phone into her pocket and leaned her forehead against the shelf, breathing through the burn behind her eyes.
She knew she was going.
Because the city didn't reward good people.
It rewarded people who paid on time.
The Uber ride was silent. Streetlights smeared across the windows as familiar neighborhoods faded into darker, quieter streets. Elira watched them go, her chest tight, her hands clenched in her lap.
The car stopped.
"You sure this is the spot?" the driver asked.
Elira looked out.
A warehouse squatted at the end of the block, lights dead, windows blind. A single steel door stood beneath a camera that followed her as she moved.
"I'm sure," she said.
The Uber drove away too fast.
Cold air bit into her skin as she stepped up to the door. Her phone buzzed.
CODE: 1919.
She entered it.
The door unlocked with a heavy click. Warm air spilled out, thick with the scent of iron.
She hesitated only a second before stepping inside.
The door shut behind her.
Low red lights guided her down a corridor too clean, too deliberate, to belong in an abandoned building. The hum of electricity filled the space, steady and controlled.
At the end stood an open doorway glowing gold.
Voices murmured beyond it.
She stepped through.
The room was circular and vast. Candles lined the floor in a wide ring, flames steady and deliberate. At the center stood a stone platform carved with symbols she didn't recognize, dark stains soaked deep into its surface.
Men and women in black coats surrounded it. Some wore masks. Others watched her openly.
A tall man with silver hair stepped forward, smiling politely.
"Elira Vale."
"This is a blood draw," she said. "Right?"
A ripple of amusement passed through the circle.
"In a way," the man replied.
"I'm leaving."
The door behind her shut.
Her breath hitched. She spun, reaching for it. No handle. No seam.
"Open it," she said.
"Don't struggle," the man said gently. "You'll waste energy."
The chanting began.
Slow at first. Then faster.
Hands seized her arms. She screamed, fought, but their grip was iron. They dragged her toward the platform.
"You were never meant to pay," the silver-haired man murmured. "You were meant to open a door."
They forced her down onto the stone. Cold slammed into her spine.
A blade flashed. Dark metal. Old.
Pain exploded as her wrist was cut. Blood spilled, hot and fast.
The moment it touched the carved symbol, the stone shuddered.
The candles flared violently, then went out.
Darkness fell.
In the black, a voice spoke.
Not around her.
Inside her.
Low. Male. Ancient.
And amused in the way predators were amused.
Finally.
Pressure bloomed behind her eyes, sharp and intimate, as if something had reached into her bloodstream and tightened its grip.
Her heart stuttered, then slammed harder.
The voice breathed in, slow and deliberate.
You bleed like what is already mine.
Elira went utterly still.
Because whatever they had tried to summon had answered.
And it had claimed her.