Chapter 1 — Fell Into His World
Xander Vale hated interruptions.
They broke rhythm. They wasted time. They reminded him that no matter how tightly he controlled his life, something—or someone—could still knock on the door uninvited.
So when his mother called at 2:17 a.m., Xander didn't answer.
He was in his penthouse gym, shirt discarded, hands wrapped, striking a sandbag with precise, measured blows. Each hit landed where he intended. Each breath was regulated. Sweat rolled down his spine, proof of discipline, not exhaustion.
The phone vibrated again.
And again.
Xander stopped.
He glanced at the screen, irritation sharpening when he saw the caller ID.
Mother.
She never called this late unless something had gone wrong—or unless she wanted to ruin his night.
With a sigh, he picked up.
"What is it?" he asked, voice flat.
"You need to come home."
Xander frowned. "I am home."
"No. The other one."
The Vale Estate.
That got his attention.
"Why?"
There was a pause on the line. Too long.
"I brought someone with me," his mother said carefully. "And she's… not well."
Xander scoffed. "That's vague even for you."
"She was found unconscious near the cliffs outside the city."
"And this concerns me because…?"
"Because," his mother said, "she asked for you."
Xander laughed, short and humorless. "I don't run a charity."
"She doesn't know what charity is."
Another pause.
"And Xander," his mother added quietly, "I've never seen someone look so afraid."
That did it.
Not concern—he didn't do concern—but curiosity.
"Thirty minutes," he said, and hung up.
---
The Vale Estate slept under a blanket of artificial moonlight, its white marble walls gleaming like something carved from ice. Security gates slid open as Xander's car approached, recognizing him instantly. Everything here obeyed him. Machines. People. Systems.
That was how he liked it.
He stepped inside, shrugging off his jacket as the air shifted.
Something was wrong.
The house was too quiet.
No staff. No movement. No sound except his own footsteps echoing across the polished floor.
Then he felt it.
A pressure—subtle but wrong—like standing near a live wire.
Xander followed it upstairs.
The guest room door was open.
Inside, his mother stood near the bed, arms folded tight, her elegant composure strained. Beside her was the family physician, pale and confused, murmuring into a recorder.
And on the bed—
Xander stopped.
The girl was small.
Too small to be anything threatening.
She lay curled on her side, wrapped in a blanket far too thick for the season. Her skin was pale, almost luminous under the lights, marked with faint, unfamiliar symbols along her collarbone—lines that shimmered, then faded when he blinked.
Her hair spilled across the pillow in dark silver strands, tangled and damp, as if she'd crawled out of the ocean.
But it was her face that held him.
She wasn't beautiful in the polished, manufactured way he was used to.
She was… strange.
Sharp cheekbones. Soft mouth. Lashes too long to be natural. And when her eyelids fluttered—
Her eyes opened.
They were not brown.
They were not blue.
They were a deep, unsettling violet, glowing faintly like starlight trapped behind glass.
The room shifted.
Xander felt it—an instinctive jolt, like his body had reacted before his mind could catch up.
The girl gasped.
She shot upright with a suddenness that startled everyone, clutching the blanket to her chest. Her gaze locked onto Xander.
And she froze.
Her pupils dilated.
Her breathing turned shallow.
She stared at him like he was a ghost.
Or a weapon.
Or both.
She whispered something—sharp, musical syllables that didn't belong to any language he knew.
Then she screamed.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't hysterical.
It was raw—a sound dragged straight from terror.
The lights flickered.
The air vibrated.
Glass cracked.
Xander took a step back as a shockwave blasted outward, slamming the physician into the wall and knocking his mother off her feet.
Every instinct in Xander screamed danger.
He moved without thinking.
He crossed the room in three strides and grabbed the girl's wrists, pinning her to the bed as the invisible force bucked beneath his grip.
"Enough!" he snapped.
The moment his skin touched hers—
Everything stopped.
The pressure vanished.
The lights steadied.
The air went still.
The girl went limp beneath him, trembling violently.
Her violet eyes stared up at his face, wide and disbelieving.
She whispered again, voice breaking.
"A… man?"
Xander stiffened.
"What did you say?"
Her fingers curled instinctively into the fabric of his sleeve, as if anchoring herself to reality.
"You're real," she breathed. "They weren't lying."
Xander released her wrists slowly, unease creeping in where confidence usually lived.
"My name is Xander," he said coldly. "You're in my house. And you're going to tell me who you are."
The girl swallowed.
"My name is Arielle."
She hesitated, then added softly—
"I am not from your world."
Silence crashed down on the room.
The physician stared.
His mother said nothing—but her eyes never left Arielle.
Xander laughed.
It came out wrong.
"That's your explanation?" he said. "You break my house, terrify my staff, and claim you're an alien?"
Arielle flinched at the word.
"I escaped," she said quickly. "They will come for me. If they find me here—"
She cut off suddenly, eyes snapping past Xander.
Her gaze fixed on the window.
On the dark sky beyond.
Her face drained of color.
"They're already looking," she whispered.
Xander turned.
Outside, high above the estate, the stars shifted.
One of them moved.
And then another.
Xander's jaw tightened.
For the first time in years, something in his carefully controlled world felt… uncertain.
He looked back at the girl on his bed.
Naive. Terrified. Dangerous.
An inconvenience.
And somehow—
The most interesting thing that had ever walked into his life.
"Get some rest," he said finally. "We'll talk in the morning."
Arielle shook her head, fear tightening her grip on the blanket.
"If I stay," she said softly, "your world will suffer."
Xander met her gaze without blinking.
"Then you'd better hope," he replied, "that I decide you're worth the trouble."
Outside, the stars kept moving.
And somewhere far beyond Earth, something ancient had begun to hunt.