The moon was already sitting low when I stepped out of the narrow alley and into the open street. The night was quiet—too quiet for a city that normally breathed chaos after dark. Even the passing vehicles felt like ghosts drifting across the asphalt, their headlights slicing through the silence in slow motion.
I kept glancing over my shoulder.
Not because I was scared.
But because I knew someone was watching.
That feeling… that pressure… it had been following me all week.
And tonight, it was heavier than ever.
I tightened my fist around the folded note in my pocket—the one I found slipped under my door earlier that evening. Just one sentence, written in a handwriting that trembled slightly at the edges:
"He knows about her."
Nothing more.
No signature.
No explanation.
No hint of who "he" was.
But I didn't need one.
Not after what happened yesterday.
Not after seeing the hooded figure standing across the street, staring at my window as if he was waiting for permission to enter my life and destroy everything inside it.
I turned down a corner, walking faster. The streetlights flickered overhead like tired sentinels struggling to stay awake. The scent of the night—damp concrete and distant smoke—swirled around me.
I reached the abandoned shop at the far end of the block and stopped.
It didn't look like much from the outside. Broken signboard. Shutter half-rusted. A faint graffiti mark on the wall: the symbol that looked like a half-moon split by a dagger.
But inside…
Inside was where the only person I trusted was waiting.
I knocked twice—soft, deliberate. A moment later, a small metallic click echoed behind the door, and it cracked open just enough for a pair of sharp eyes to study me.
"Late," she said.
I pushed the door open fully and stepped inside. "Got held up."
"Held up," she repeated with a scoff. "Or followed?"
"That's what I'm here to find out."
Her name was Aria. At least, that's the name she allowed me to use. In reality, she had more identities than I had excuses. She moved like someone who survived too many fights and trusted too few people. Tall. Slim. Always wearing dark colours like she wanted to melt into the shadows.
"Show me the note," she said without sitting.
I pulled it out and handed it to her.
She read it once. Then twice. Her expression changed on the third read—subtle, but I caught it. Her jaw tensed, and her grip on the paper tightened.
"Where did you find this?" she asked.
"Under my door."
"And you touched it before wearing gloves?"
"No time for that."
She sighed. "You need to learn how to survive, not just how to fight."
"Survival's easier when I know what I'm up against. So tell me—what does it mean?"
"It means," she said slowly, "that the person we've been trying to avoid… the one who vanished for months… is finally moving again."
A chill crawled down my spine.
Because she didn't have to say the name.
I already knew.
The Specter.
The man without a face.
The shadow that belonged to no one but followed everyone.
The one who hunted secrets the way other men hunted money.
But why would he care about her?
Aria folded her arms. "You're thinking too loud. Sit."
I sat on the old wooden stool beside the counter. She walked to the back shelf and pulled out a thin file. The moment she dropped it in front of me, my stomach twisted.
A photograph was clipped to the first page.
Her.
The girl who had walked into my life without warning.
The girl whose laughter felt like sunlight.
The girl who didn't know half the danger orbiting around me.
The girl I refused to lose.
"Why is he watching her?" I asked.
"That's the wrong question," Aria replied. "The real question is: what did you do that made him look at her?"
My heartbeat slowed.
Then quickened.
Then stopped altogether for half a second.
Because deep down, part of me already knew the answer.
"I made a choice," I said quietly.
"No," she corrected. "You made a mistake."
I lifted my head. "I did what I had to."
"And now someone else may pay the price."
Her words cut deeper than I wanted to admit.
Aria leaned closer. "Listen to me carefully. The Specter never goes after the target directly. He goes after the thing the target values most. It weakens them. Breaks them. Makes them easy to eliminate."
"I won't let him touch her."
"Then you need to be smarter than you've been so far." She tapped the note. "This message isn't a warning. It's an invitation."
"Invitation to what?"
"To a game."
I hated when she used that word.
Because with the Specter, "game" meant danger. Manipulation. Disappearing people. Destroying lives just to see how others would react.
Aria opened the file and pulled out another sheet—one with a map printed on it. She placed a red marker on a specific spot.
"This is where you'll find him."
"Tonight?"
"Tonight," she confirmed. "He's expecting you."
Of course he was.
The Specter always planned three steps ahead.
Maybe four.
I stood up. "Then I'll go."
Aria grabbed my wrist. Her grip was strong, urgent—almost desperate.
"This isn't like the others," she said. "If you face him alone, you won't come back."
"I won't let him near her."
"Then let me come with you."
I hesitated.
Not because I doubted her abilities—Aria was stronger than most men I knew.
But because bringing her meant dragging her deeper into something only meant for me.
"I need you here," I said. "Watch her. Protect her. If I fail—"
"You won't fail."
"But if I do—"
"You won't," she repeated, louder this time.
I stared at her for a long moment, then nodded slowly.
She exhaled sharply, like holding back words she wanted to say but couldn't.
I turned to leave.
But before my hand touched the doorknob, she spoke again—quiet, but sharp enough to cut through the darkness.
"Be careful. The Specter doesn't fight fair. He doesn't fight to win. He fights to ruin."
"I know."
"No, you don't." She paused. "He knows what you feel for her."
That made me stop.
Completely.
I turned back. "And what do I feel?"
Aria met my gaze without blinking. "Enough that he can use it against you."
I said nothing.
Because denying it would be a lie.
And admitting it would make it too real.
So instead, I walked out into the cold night.
---
The city felt different now—like every shadow was holding its breath, waiting for something terrible to unfold. I moved quickly but silently, navigating through backstreets until I reached the location Aria had marked.
A parking structure.
Old.
Empty.
Too quiet.
The perfect place for an ambush.
I climbed the concrete ramp, footsteps echoing slightly. The higher I went, the heavier the silence grew. By the time I reached the top floor, the air was thick with tension.
And that's when I heard it.
A slow clap.
One.
Two.
Three.
I turned.
A figure stepped out from behind a pillar. Tall. Dressed in black. Hood covering most of his face except the faint outline of a smile that didn't feel human.
"Finally," he said, voice calm and unsettlingly smooth. "I was wondering how long you'd make me wait."
"Specter."
He bowed slightly, like greeting an old friend. "You received my note, I presume?"
"Why her?"
He chuckled softly. "Straight to the point. I admire that."
I took a step forward. "If you touch her, I'll—"
"You'll what?" he asked, amused. "Hurt me? Kill me?" He tilted his head. "You're emotional tonight. That makes you sloppy."
My fists tightened.
He continued, "She's quite special, isn't she? The way you look at her… even when you think no one notices."
"Leave her out of this."
"Oh, I will," he said. "If you win."
"Win what?"
He spread his arms wide.
"The game."
I swallowed hard.
"What are the rules?"
"There are none," he said. "Except one: protect what you love… if you can."
He stepped back into the shadows, disappearing like smoke.
The sound of footsteps echoed behind me.
I turned—
And froze.
Because standing there, eyes wide with fear, was her.
She shouldn't have been here.
She couldn't have followed me.
Unless…
Unless he brought her.
"Why… why are you here?" she whispered.
Before I could answer—
A whisper drifted through the air.
"You can save her," the Specter said from somewhere unseen. "If you're fast enough."
And then everything collapsed into chaos.