Marin stumbled backward, the weight of what she had just witnessed pressing down on her. The shadow that had lunged from the alley lay still and lifeless, yet she could swear she had heard a whisper—a hiss of anger or maybe pain—before it collapsed.
The man with silver eyes knelt beside the motionless figure, scanning it with an almost clinical calm. "It won't rise again," he murmured. His voice was soft, velvety, but it carried a weight that made Marin shiver. Not just from fear… from something deeper, something she couldn't name.
"You… you killed it," she whispered, horrified.
He straightened, his gaze locking onto hers. "I did what needed to be done," he said, and there was a strange finality in his tone, as if nothing could sway him from that truth. "You would've died if I hadn't been here."
Marin's heart raced, not just from fear but from the closeness of him—the cold, impossibly still presence that seemed to draw her in despite her instincts screaming at her to run. Her mind swirled with questions, but one thudding thought dominated: Who is he? And why does my entire body feel like it's remembering something I've never known?
"You're different from anyone I've ever met," he said suddenly, almost reading her thoughts. "And you're in danger. More than you know."
Before she could respond, he stepped closer, and the air between them seemed to vibrate. Her skin tingled under his gaze, under the weight of his presence, and she realized with a mixture of fear and something else—something dangerous—that she couldn't look away.