It was nearly midnight, and the rain hadn't stopped for hours. Ava Mercer kept her head down as she walked, the wind pushing against her coat, cold water dripping from her hair. The streets were almost empty, the glow from streetlamps blurred by the steady drizzle. She liked the quiet, the way the city seemed to pause in moments like this.
That was when she saw him.
He was leaning beneath the awning of the old Orpheum Theatre — abandoned, crumbling, and forgotten. His black coat blended into the shadows, his posture still but alert. In his hand, a cigarette glowed faintly, the smoke curling up into the rain.
Their eyes met, and the rest of the city seemed to fall away. There was something in his gaze — not just curiosity, but a quiet intensity that made her feel as though he could see right through her. For a long second, neither of them moved.
He dropped the cigarette, crushed it under his boot, and without a word, stepped back into the shadows until he was gone.
Ava kept walking, but her mind wasn't on the road ahead. She had always told herself that danger was something you could avoid if you stayed cautious, stayed smart. But there had been something in that man's eyes — danger, yes, but also something else. Something she couldn't name, and couldn't ignore.