Jack's life didn't just suck. It sucked, got chewed up, spat out, and then run over by a garbage truck for good measure.
By 9 a.m., he was fired from his dead-end office job after his boss discovered he'd been "borrowing" printer paper to use as toilet paper at home.By noon, his girlfriend dumped him—over text—complete with the classic "it's not you, it's your bank account."By 6 p.m., his landlord changed the locks and launched his IKEA mattress out the third-floor window like it was part of a neighborhood parade.
So naturally, by midnight, Jack was drunk off a six-pack of discount beer, sitting on the curb outside a 7-Eleven, and wondering if selling a kidney on the dark web might cover his student loans.
That's when he saw it: a shiny, glowing thing in the gutter.
"Cool," he slurred, squinting. "Free jewelry. Exactly what I need to impress the ladies—because nothing screams sexy like 'found it next to a used condom.'"
The object pulsed warm against his palm. It looked suspiciously cursed, like something Indiana Jones would sprint away from while yelling, "Why is it always snakes?!" But Jack was too hammered to care.
Ten minutes later, he tripped over his own shoelaces, face-planted on the pavement, and—because fate has the comedic timing of a sadistic stand-up comic—swallowed the damn thing.
Cue instant heartburn. And by heartburn, Jack meant his chest lit up like he'd just eaten a microwave.
"Fantastic," he wheezed, clutching his ribs. "I can't even drink like a loser. I gotta choke on shiny garbage too?"
That's when he heard the growl.
Low. Hungry. Animal.
A pair of glowing eyes blinked at him from the alley. Out stalked something seven feet tall, fur bristling, claws gleaming under the streetlamp. Its drool hissed where it hit the pavement.
Jack blinked. "Oh, awesome. A werewolf. Because my night wasn't already a Taco Bell special of regret and diarrhea."
The beast lunged. Jack's survival strategy? Trip over the same shoelace again. He fell flat, and the monster soared overhead, smashing face-first into a dumpster.
"Ha!" Jack croaked from the ground. "Gravity's on my side tonight, bitch!"
Before he could scramble to his feet, a shadow swept across him. A man appeared—tall, pale, and devastatingly elegant. He caught the werewolf by the throat with one hand, lifting it like a trash bag. His eyes burned crimson; his smile revealed teeth sharp enough to void dental insurance.
"Pathetic mutt," the man murmured before snapping the beast's neck like it was a breadstick.
He turned toward Jack. "Congratulations," he purred, voice smoother than silk dipped in poison. "You've just become the most valuable human on Earth."
Jack, still drunk, blinked and said, "Uh… can I get that in writing? For my résumé?"
The vampire's lips twitched. He crouched, tilting Jack's chin up like he was inspecting merchandise. "You swallowed the Medallion. The prophecy lives."
Jack burped. "The only prophecy I know is that Taco Bell always tastes worse on the way out."
Before the vampire could reply, a slow clap echoed through the alley.
From the shadows emerged a woman—tall, radiant, and dangerously amused. Her crimson dress looked painted onto her body, her heels clicked like gunshots, and her smirk screamed trouble. Golden hair spilled over pale shoulders, and her eyes glittered with mockery.
"Well, well," she purred. "Lucian, darling, did you just rescue a drunk raccoon, or is this… fate?"
The man scowled. "Love."
Jack blinked. "Wait—did he just call you Love?"
The woman's smile widened. "Name's Love Dick. Yes, that's real. My father had a sense of humor. Or maybe a death wish. Either way, darling, you can call me your new favorite mistake."
Jack coughed. "Your… name is Love Dick? That's—wow. My Tinder dates don't even sound that fake."
Lucian's jaw tightened. "Ignore her. She thrives on chaos."
Love Dick sauntered forward, crouching beside Jack. Her perfume hit him like a shot of expensive sin. She tapped his chest lightly with one crimson nail. "He's cute, in a pathetic, washed-up, loser-who-lives-in-his-mom's-basement kind of way. I like it."
"I don't live in my mom's basement," Jack protested. "She doesn't even have a basement. It's a condo."
"Adorable," she crooned, patting his cheek. "I want him."
Lucian's eyes flared red. "No. He belongs to me."
Jack raised his hand weakly. "Uh, hi. Still here. Not a Pokémon card."
The two vampires ignored him. Sparks practically flew between them. Lucian radiated cold fury; Love Dick radiated hot mischief. The contrast was so strong Jack half-expected a weather report: Tonight's forecast—chance of catastrophic sexual tension with a side of homicide.
Behind them, the werewolf corpse twitched. Love Dick casually heel-stomped its skull, never breaking eye contact with Lucian. "See? I'm practical. You should let me keep him. He'll be my little pet."
Jack sputtered. "Excuse me?! Pet? I'm a full-time loser, not a part-time hamster!"
Lucian snarled. "Back off, Love. He's the Blood Moon Key. Bound to me."
"Oh, relax," she drawled. "You always take things so seriously. Don't you see? This pathetic creature just swallowed destiny. That makes him fun. And I love fun."
Jack's head spun. Drunk. Terrified. Possibly hallucinating. Two supernatural supermodels fighting over him like he was a clearance-rack Gucci bag.
He did the only logical thing.He puked on Lucian's boots.
Silence.
Love Dick burst out laughing, doubling over, tears streaming down her face. "Oh, my God! He's perfect. I'm keeping him. Look at Lucian's face—he hasn't been this mad since someone stole his favorite coffin cushions!"
Lucian's glare could have boiled oceans.
Jack wiped his mouth. "Sorry. Nerves. And beer. And destiny, apparently."
For the first time in his miserable life, Jack realized something:He wasn't invisible anymore.He was screwed. But at least people finally noticed him.
And that… felt kind of good.