Damon's lungs burned as he tore down the alley, every stride fueled by blind terror. His sneakers slapped against the concrete, each step screaming too loud in the dead of night. The alley mouth was so close—just a dozen paces, maybe less.
Then the world lurched.
Something cold and impossibly fast blurred behind him. A weight slammed into his back, and before he could even scream, he was airborne.
His body hit the ground hard. Pain jolted up his ribs, knocking the air from his lungs. Before he could scramble up, a clawed hand clamped around his ankle.
The creature yanked.
Damon was dragged across the concrete like a rag doll, scraping his palms raw as he clawed for purchase. Trash bags and loose cans clattered aside while his body bounced and skidded, helpless against the creature's strength.
"Stop—! Let go!" His voice cracked, torn between terror and disbelief.
The creature didn't answer. It didn't need to. Its grin stretched wide, those jagged teeth glinting as it swung him upward like a child's toy and hurled him against the brick wall.
The impact rattled through his spine. Stars exploded in his vision. He staggered, gasping, his body refusing to obey.
Another blur of motion.
The pale creature was there—always there—towering over him, its limbs unfolding like a marionette pulled by cruel strings. It seized him by the collar and lifted him off the ground with ease. Damon's feet dangled, kicking uselessly as his throat constricted under the creature's grip.
Its empty eyes stared into his, hollow yet brimming with hunger. Its expression wasn't rage—it was amusement. A sick, mocking joy.
Like it was playing with him.
Damon's chest heaved. Panic blurred thought into instinct. He clawed at the wraith's hand, nails digging into its cold, leathery skin. No use. Its grip only tightened.
The creature tilted its head, studying him the way a predator studies prey before deciding whether to bite or tear. Then, with a flick of its wrist, it flung him aside.
Damon's body crashed into a pile of metal scraps near a dumpster. The clang echoed down the alley, his ears ringing from the impact.
Every nerve screamed in pain, but adrenaline shoved him back to his knees. He stumbled upright, blood dripping down his temple, vision swimming.
The creature stepped closer, slow and deliberate, savoring his struggle. Its smile widened.
Damon's pulse hammered. He couldn't outrun it. He couldn't overpower it. Every survival instinct in his body shrieked that he was prey, and prey had no chance.
But some small, desperate spark in him refused to lie down and die.
His hand brushed against the ground, landing on a jagged shard of broken glass. He gripped it tight, knuckles white, the edge biting into his palm.
If this was the end, he wasn't going quietly.