The world June Callaway once knew ended in the blink of an eye.
Just two weeks ago, she had been the daughter of one of the wealthiest families in Bel Air. Their name carried weight in every boardroom, their estate stretched wide with manicured lawns and marble fountains, and their cars gleamed like jewels in the sun. Old money. Power. Respect. And she had been right in the center of it — not spoiled, but undeniably protected by the cocoon her parents built around her.
Then came the accident.
A mysterious, brutal car crash that stole both her parents in one night, leaving her with nothing but shadows and the echo of sirens. June could still remember the way her hands shook as she stood before the polished coffins, her face pale, her black dress too heavy for her small frame. She wasn't eighteen yet. Not even old enough to legally claim the empire they left behind.
And that was when the vultures came.
Her uncles. Her aunts. People who once smiled at her at dinner parties, now showing their true faces. They didn't care that she was grieving. All they wanted was the company. The wealth. The power. Her father's legacy reduced to a feeding frenzy of lawyers, contracts, and whispered arguments behind closed doors.
"Sign here, June."
"This is for your own good, sweetheart."
"Your father would have wanted—"
She had stopped listening. Their voices blurred into noise. She needed time to breathe, to mourn, but no one gave her that. Not until Evelyn Smith — her mother's younger sister — called. Evelyn's voice had been soft, grounding, reminding her that family wasn't just blood, it was loyalty.
"Come to Blackstone, June. Stay with us. You need peace, not this madness."
So June left Bel Air—the marble floors, the sprawling mansion, the life of wealth and glitter—and traded it for a one-way ticket to a small town that barely showed up on maps.
The decision wasn't easy. Leaving behind the estate, her friends, the glittering city life. But nothing there felt like home anymore. Everything was poisoned by grief and greed. So she packed her essentials, boarded a bus, and set her sights on the quiet little town Evelyn promised would give her space to breathe.
But fate had other plans.
The bus had been delayed by hours. By the time it rolled into Blackstone, night had already fallen. June stepped off with her duffel bag slung over her shoulder, the cool air brushing her skin. The town looked nothing like Bel Air. Here, the streets were narrow, the houses lined with old brick and faded paint. The neon diner sign flickered in the distance, the only sign of life. Everything else was wrapped in an eerie stillness, as though the town was holding its breath.
June clutched the slip of paper with Evelyn's address. She hadn't called her aunt — she didn't want to worry her this late at night. She could find her way. At least, that's what she told herself as she started down the cracked pavement, her suitcase wheels rattling against the concrete.
The further she walked, the heavier the silence grew. No cars. No voices. Not even the chirp of crickets. Just her footsteps, quick and uneven, echoing in the dark.
June's grip tightened on her duffel bag. Something felt wrong.
And then she heard it — the scrape of movement behind her.
She spun around.
At first, nothing. Just the hollow stretch of pavement and shadows stretching between the dim streetlamps. But then—
A blur.
Her breath caught as a figure shot toward her with an inhuman speed, faster than anything she had ever seen. She staggered back, heart pounding in her chest—
But before the figure could reach her, another presence slammed into it from the side.
The sound was sharp, violent, like bones cracking against stone. June froze, her body rigid, as the two shapes collided in the middle of the street. Too fast. Too wild. They weren't fighting like men — they were moving like predators, blurring in and out of focus, each strike echoing with unnatural strength.
June's bag slipped from her hand, hitting the ground with a dull thud.
She couldn't scream. Couldn't breathe. She could only watch as shadows and golden sparks of motion tangled in front of her eyes.
And then — as suddenly as it began — it was over.
One of the figures, battered but still impossibly fast, darted back into the darkness, vanishing into the night as though it had never been there at all.
The second figure didn't chase.
Instead, he stood still. Breathing heavy. Broad shoulders heaving under the dim glow of the streetlight. June couldn't see his face clearly — not fully — but his eyes…
Glowing. Unmistakably golden.
They locked on her.
Her chest tightened. For a long, unbearable moment, the world seemed to stop. He said nothing. Just looked at her — as though he could see straight through her skin, straight into her soul.
And then, just as swiftly as he appeared, he was gone. His body blurred, disappearing into the night with the same inhuman speed.
June stood there trembling, her breath uneven, her duffel still at her feet.
What had she just seen?
What kind of town had she stepped into?
June's thoughts wouldn't line up. She'd been raised behind gates and guards and glass taller than most people. She knew marble lobbies and valet lines, not empty streets that swallowed sound. Whatever just happened—whatever those two were—wasn't some trick of light. She'd seen it. Felt the air shift with it.
Run. Go back. Leave.
Her mind screamed it, but her body wouldn't move. Her knees were locked, muscles tight as wire. The handle of her duffel lay on the pavement where she'd dropped it, the zipper teeth glinting under the streetlamp. She told her hand to reach for it; her hand refused. Cold pushed through her jacket, the kind that tunneled down to bone.
Breathe, June. Just—breathe.
She forced her fingers to work. One… two… three—she crouched, grabbed the duffel, and nearly fumbled it again because her palms were slick with sweat. The alley where they'd collided looked ordinary now—brick, dumpster, sliver of night—but her skin remembered the violence.
Go back.
To where? The bus station was dark and shuttered. No taxis. No people. No sound except the thin electric buzz of a neon sign across the street.
She turned toward it like a plant to heat. The sign blinked SUNNY SIDE DINER, a blue halo painting the sidewalk. The windows were darkened, chairs flipped on tables, but the awning gave her a pocket of shelter and the light made the night feel less… hungry.
She dug into her pocket with shaking fingers and pulled out her phone. Her contacts list blurred for a second before she found Aunt Evelyn and pressed call.
It rang once. Twice.
"June?" Evelyn's voice came in tight with sleep and worry. "Sweetheart? I heard your flight was delayed? I am expecting you tomorrow."
June swallowed. "It was. But I—I couldn't stay. I took a bus." Her voice sounded smaller than she meant it to. "I'm in Blackstone."
There was a beat of silence on the line, then the rustle of sheets and the thud of feet on a floor. "What? You're here? Now? At this hour?" A breath. Evelyn recalibrated, her tone softening. "Okay. Okay. Where are you exactly?"
June's gaze flicked to the sign buzzing above her. "Um… I'm by a diner." She craned to read it again, buying herself a second to steady. "Sunny Side Diner."
"Alright," Evelyn's answer was immediate, like someone who had the map of this town tucked under her tongue. "Don't move, June. Do you hear me? Stay right there under that sign. I'm coming to get you."
"Okay." The word came out on a shaky exhale. She tightened her grip on the phone. "I'm sorry for not calling earlier. I—"
"No, no, don't apologize," Evelyn said, firmer now, the way you talk when you're already reaching for your keys. "You did the right thing calling me. I'll be there in ten minutes. If you get cold, stand against the wall under the awning, but don't go anywhere. And if anyone comes near you, you call me back immediately."
June nodded even though her aunt couldn't see it. "I will."
The call ended. The silence returned—thicker now that she'd heard a human voice. She slid the phone into her pocket and pressed her back to the diner's brick, the roughness biting through her jacket. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears. She realized she was holding her breath again and let it out slow, counting like she used to before exams.
In. Two. Three. Out. Two. Three. Four.
The blue neon painted her hands the color of ice. She looked down at them and noticed they were trembling. She curled her fingers into fists until the tremor calmed. The little pendant at her throat—cool, familiar—rested against her skin. She touched it without thinking, the way a person touches a keepsake when the world goes strange.
The street stayed empty. A distant dog barked once and went quiet. Somewhere, a loose sign creaked. June kept her eyes away from the alley, but they slid back anyway, dragged by the memory of movement that wasn't human. She told herself she'd imagined the glow. That adrenaline had stretched a shadow into a monster. That cities had muggers and small towns had… whatever this was.
The lie didn't fit.