Night clung to the city like a damp shroud, the streetlights flickering in and out as if they were too tired to keep watch. Daniel Mercer hurried down the narrow side street, collar pulled tight against the cold, his breath fogging in the air. He shouldn't have taken this shortcut—he knew that the moment he stepped into it—but he was already late, and the main road felt impossibly far away.
A shadow peeled itself from the alley ahead.
"Wallet. Phone. Now."
The voice was low, sharp, and far too calm for the knife glinting in the robber's hand.
Daniel froze. His pulse hammered in his ears. "Okay—okay, just take it." He fumbled for his wallet, hands shaking.
The robber stepped closer, blade catching the weak light. "Faster."
Daniel handed it over, hoping—praying—that would be enough. But the man's eyes were wild, pupils blown wide. He wasn't here for just a quick grab.
"Please," Daniel whispered.
The knife flashed.
A hot sting tore through his side. His knees buckled. The world tilted.
He hit the pavement hard, gasping, vision blurring at the edges. The robber crouched over him, rifling through his pockets with frantic hands.
Then—
A gust of wind.
A thud.
A startled yelp.
Daniel blinked up through the haze.
Someone else was there.
A woman—no, a silhouette at first—landing between him and the attacker with a grace that didn't seem human. Her suit was sleek black with streaks of green tracing along her arms and legs, glowing faintly like circuitry. A hood shadowed her face, but her eyes—bright, sharp, unmistakably focused—cut through the darkness.
"Walk away," she said, voice steady as steel.
The robber lunged at her with the knife.
She moved like she'd been waiting for that.
A twist. A kick. A blur of motion Daniel couldn't follow. The knife clattered across the pavement. The robber hit the ground with a grunt, then another, until he lay face‑down, wrists bound behind him with some kind of glowing green cord the woman produced from her belt.
She didn't spare him a second glance.
Instead, she knelt beside Daniel.
"You're going to be okay," she said, her tone softer now. "Stay awake."
He tried. He really did. But the world was slipping.
The last thing he felt was her lifting him—effortlessly, impossibly—and the cold night air rushing past as she carried him.
When Daniel's eyes fluttered open again, he was lying on a bench beneath a bright red sign.
EMERGENCY ROOM – ST. VINCENT'S HOSPITAL
The mysterious woman stood a few feet away, half‑hidden in the shadow of the overhang. For a moment, he thought she might come closer, say something, reveal who she was.
But she only nodded once—almost like a promise—before leaping upward, vanishing into the night as silently as she'd arrived.
A nurse burst through the doors, shouting for help.
Daniel let his eyes close again, the memory of green light lingering like a heartbeat.
The bell rang—sharp, metallic, and far too loud—echoing through the school courtyard like an alarm meant specifically for her.
Davina sprinted across the cracked pavement, her long black hair whipping behind her in a dark ribbon. Students lounging on benches or clustered in groups barely glanced her way; those who did only rolled their eyes or whispered something she didn't care enough to decipher. She vaulted up the steps of the main building, her breath tight in her chest, and hurried down the hallway lined with faded motivational posters and flickering lights.
By the time she reached the classroom door, she paused just long enough to inhale once, steadying herself.
She eased the door open.
"Well, good for you to finally join us, Davina," came the sharp voice of Mrs. Hampton, a woman in her seventies whose posture was straighter than most of the teenagers in the room.
Davina froze mid-step. She cleared her throat, forcing a polite smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I apologize, Mrs. Hampton."
Mrs. Hampton's glare could have cut glass. "I swear, if it weren't for your test scores, you wouldn't get away with this."
"I would never allow that to happen," Davina replied smoothly, gliding to her seat. A few students snickered under their breath. She ignored them. She always did.
It was a typical day—monotonous, suffocating, predictable. She hated school, and the feeling was mutual. But none of it mattered. Three more months. Three more months and she'd walk out with degrees in Business and Engineering, and she'd never have to set foot in this place again.
The hour-long lecture dragged on, each minute stretching like taffy. When the dismissal finally came, she felt the tension in her shoulders ease.
She was halfway to the door when her phone buzzed. She answered without checking the screen.
"Sebastian? You don't usually call."
"It appears you have a guest," he said, his voice calm as always. "I thought I'd give you a warning instead of letting you walk into the surprise."
She pushed open the building's side door, stepping into the cool afternoon air. "Who is it?"
"Mr. Benjamin Frey. He's come all the way from York City."
Davina halted beside her black Dodge Charger, the sunlight gleaming off its polished surface. "I'll be there in fifteen," she said, ending the call.
A voice spoke behind her. "You know, this doesn't look like the kind of car a rich girl like you would be driving."
Davina turned sharply. A tall man stood a few feet away, brown hair tousled by the wind, brown eyes studying her with a mix of curiosity and something else she couldn't quite place.
She didn't flinch. Didn't smile. Didn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
"I like my car," she said simply.
"Now if you'll excuse me I have somewhere important to be" Davina said unlocking her car and opening the door. The mysterious man stepped onto the sidewalk and Davina got into her car quickly starting it and driving off, while watching him in her rearview mirror.
She didn't know who he was. She knew the face of everyone in that damn school but she didn't know his. And that wasn't a good thing.
TO BE CONTINUED