Detective Joseph Mills sat at his cluttered desk, the dim light of his office casting long, wavering shadows across the room.
Papers, case files, old photographs—strewn haphazardly, remnants of past investigations and unresolved memories.
The low hum of the city outside barely penetrated the thick walls, leaving him in a cocoon of silence that only served to amplify the thoughts swirling in his mind.
His gaze drifted to the window, where the faint glow of streetlights fought against the encroaching darkness.
It was in these quiet moments that the past had a way of creeping back in, like a slow, insidious fog that clouded his thoughts and brought with it memories he'd long tried to bury.
Memories of a life split between two worlds—one steeped in ancient vampire tradition, the other bound by the mortal coil of humanity.
CREEEAK.
The door to his office opened slowly.
Miss López, his ever-efficient secretary, stepped in with her usual air of brisk professionalism.
But her sharp eyes quickly caught the faraway look in Joseph's eyes and the tension etched into his features.
"Sir Joseph Mills, are you okay?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.
"You don't look so good."
Joseph looked up, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"I'm fine, Miss López. Just some old memories, that's all."
Miss López frowned slightly, her intuition buzzing, but she respected the boundaries Joseph had set.
She placed a tablet filled with the details of the latest case on his desk with her usual precise grace.
"If you need anything, sir, I'm just outside."
Her voice softened as she exited, leaving Joseph alone with his thoughts once more.
CLICK.
The door shut behind her.
Joseph's smile faded, replaced by a look of somber reflection.
The recent murders weren't just another case.
They were a harbinger, stirring memories of a time and place he had fought hard to forget.
Memories of a war that had shaped the very core of his being.
Joseph Mills was not just any detective.
He was a product of two worlds—a rare union that carried both the power and the curse of his lineage.
The Origins of Joseph Mills
The night was suffocatingly dark, the canopy of trees blotting out even the faintest sliver of moonlight.
A lady ran through the forest, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she stumbled over roots and underbrush.
Behind her, the growls of the demon drew closer—terrifyingly close.
She had already lost everything—her family, her home—and now she was running for her life.
Her only goal was to survive the relentless beast that hunted her.
Just as the demon closed in, its eyes glowing with predatory malice, a shadow detached itself from the darkness.
SWOOSH!
In one swift, fluid motion, the demon's head was severed from its body.
THUD.
It collapsed, lifeless.
The woman looked up—trembling—to see a tall, imposing figure.
He wore dark, elegant clothing, his piercing eyes faintly glowing in the night.
He radiated calm authority, both intimidating and reassuring.
"I am LORD WILLIAM II," he said, his voice a deep, resonant tone that carried power and gentleness.
He extended a hand toward her.
"Thank you," she breathed, voice trembling.
FRAME focused on her lips before panning to her back, her face still concealed.
"I'm ARIA MILLS."
William studied her.
His expression softened.
"You are SAFE now, Aria. The demons will NOT harm you anymore."
In the weeks that followed, Aria recovered under William's protection.
She learned of his world—a world of shadows, honor, and a strict code.
A place where power was both a gift and a curse, where right and wrong often blurred.
William, in turn, found himself captivated by Aria's strength—her unyielding will to survive despite all she had endured.
Their bond deepened.
From this forbidden union...
Joseph was born.
A child of two worlds.
Destined to walk the path of both light and shadow.
Present Day
CLICK.
Joseph snapped back to the now, his eyes focusing on the tablet Miss López had left behind.
The information displayed only heightened his unease.
The return of the demons wasn't just a threat to the city.
It was a sign—
That the old battles, the ancient war his father fought in...
Were far from over.
His thoughts turned to David Wright—his trusted friend, his anchor, a man who had stood by him through the darkest nights.
Joseph knew he'd need David now more than ever.
With a sense of urgency, Joseph picked up the phone, his fingers trembling slightly as they dialed the familiar number.
TRRING... TRRING...
Two rings.
Then—
"David, it's Joseph," he said, his voice steady, though the storm inside him raged.
"We need to talk. There's been a development... something... BIG."
"The DEMONS! They are BACK."
To be Continued...