Elena sat back in her seat, rubbing her temples as Miles continued to talk about the latest theories surrounding Sarah's disappearance. Her mind was racing. She had known that coming back to Black Hollow would drag her into something she couldn't escape, but she hadn't expected it to pull her this deep, this quickly.
The door to the diner jingled as it opened, and Elena looked up—half expecting it to be another townsperson, maybe an investigator, or someone looking to gossip. But instead, it was a man. Tall, with broad shoulders that filled the doorway. His dark hair was tousled, and a leather jacket hung loosely around his frame. He moved with a quiet confidence, as if the place was meant for him, and not the other way around.
For a moment, Elena forgot to breathe.
There was something oddly familiar about him, but the sensation was lost under a layer of strange attraction. His eyes locked with hers, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to go still. His gaze was intense, predatory, yet… something else. There was a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, like he knew exactly what he was doing, and he liked it.
Miles tensed beside her, his posture stiffening. The man's attention didn't shift from Elena as he walked slowly to the counter, his boots scraping softly against the floor. He leaned against the edge, eyes still on her.
"Well, well…" he said in a low, velvety voice, "if it isn't Elena Gray. Didn't expect to see you back in this hellhole."
Elena's stomach flipped. She could swear she knew him—had seen him before, maybe in passing, years ago. But the years had been too many, and she couldn't place the memory. The recognition buzzed at the back of her mind like a faint alarm, but it wasn't enough to form anything concrete.
"You... know me?" she asked, her voice tight.
His grin grew, a flash of something dark in his eyes. "Oh, I remember you. We ran in similar circles once upon a time. Though I've changed a bit since then."
Miles's hand subtly brushed the holster at his waist. The tension in the air thickened, the hairs on the back of Elena's neck standing up. She turned to Miles, but he wasn't looking at her. His eyes were locked on the man with a sense of wariness she hadn't noticed before.
"Who are you?" Elena asked, the question coming out stronger than she intended.
The man tilted his head slightly, his smile never faltering. "You can call me Dorian," he said, his voice dripping with a charm that bordered on dangerous. "And as for who I am... well, let's just say I'm someone who knows all the stories in this town. Especially the ones people like to keep buried."
Elena's pulse quickened. She wasn't sure what it was about him—his presence, his smile, or the way he looked at her—that made her heart race, but she didn't like it. She didn't like the way it felt. And she didn't like the way her body responded, like she had no control.
Before she could respond, Dorian leaned in just slightly, his breath warm on her skin. "You might want to be careful, Elena. You're walking through a town of ghosts. Some of them are harmless. Some…" His eyes flicked briefly to Miles, "...are not."
Miles stepped forward, his voice low but firm. "This is a public place, Dorian. Keep your distance."
Dorian chuckled softly, the sound like velvet, a mix of amusement and something darker. "Don't worry, cop. I'm just here to say hello to an old friend. After all, it's not every day the past comes knocking on your door."
Elena tried to steady her breath, but her heart was pounding in her chest. Miles wasn't wrong to be on edge. There was something off about this guy, something almost too smooth, too… practiced.
As Dorian moved to sit down at the counter, his eyes never left Elena's. "You know, I always thought you'd come back. You never really leave Black Hollow, do you?" His gaze flickered briefly to Miles, and then back to Elena, with an almost possessive intensity.
"Why are you here?" Elena asked, her voice shaking slightly despite herself.
"I'm here to make sure no one forgets what happened," Dorian said softly, his tone almost playful. "Some people... they like to think the past is buried. But I know better, don't I?" His smile widened. "I always know when the past is about to come alive again."
The words hung in the air like a threat, and as he turned his attention back to Miles, Elena caught a glimpse of something else in his expression—something that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. It wasn't just the cold amusement. It was the dark satisfaction, like a predator circling its prey.
Dorian stood up, his eyes still locked on Elena. "I'll see you soon, Elena," he said, his voice low and laden with promise. "You'll remember me. We all do, in the end."
He turned and walked out of the diner without another word, his presence lingering long after the door slammed shut behind him.
Elena stared at the door, her heart thudding against her chest. The killer was here.
And there was something disturbingly magnetic about him.