Aria's POV
I walk for hours through the rain-soaked streets, testing my new body.
Jump over a fence? Easy. My legs launch me six feet in the air like it's nothing.
Pick a lock on an abandoned building? My fingers know exactly how to manipulate the pins even though I've never picked a lock in my life.
Understand the Russian conversation between two men outside a bodega? Every word is crystal clear, like I've spoken the language since birth.
I'm not human anymore. Not completely.
And the scariest part? I don't care.
By the time the sun rises, I find myself on a rooftop overlooking the city. From here, I can see everything—the skyscrapers where people like Veronica make their fortunes, the poor neighborhoods where people like Danny's family struggle to survive, the police stations that didn't believe me, the courts that will convict me.
The whole broken system spread out like a map.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" a voice says behind me. "The world you're about to change."
I spin around, my body automatically dropping into a fighting stance I never learned.
He's there. The man from the water. But now I can see him clearly in the dawn light.
He's the most terrifying beautiful thing I've ever seen. Skin like polished obsidian. Eyes that glow gold like molten metal. He wears an expensive black suit that somehow stayed perfect despite appearing from nowhere. When he smiles, I see teeth just a bit too sharp to be human.
"You," I breathe. "You're real."
"Very real." He walks to the edge of the roof, hands in his pockets, completely casual. "Though I go by many names. Ezekiel seems to make humans most comfortable. You may call me that."
"What are you?"
"The question isn't what I am." His golden eyes fix on me. "It's what you are now, Aria Chen."
My hands curl into fists. "What did you do to me?"
"Exactly what you asked for." Ezekiel gestures at the city below. "Power. The ability to excel at anything you attempt. Combat, medicine, languages, technology, manipulation, seduction—every skill humans can master, you can now learn instantly. You are perfect, Aria. Or as close to perfect as a mortal can become."
"At what cost?" I remember his words in the water. "You said half my life."
"Fifteen years." He says it so casually, like he's discussing the weather. "You would have lived to seventy-two naturally. Now you'll die at fifty-seven. Still plenty of time to accomplish your goals."
Fifty-seven. I'm twenty-seven now. Thirty years left. Thirty years to make everyone pay, to fix what's broken, to become something more than the victim everyone thought I was.
"Why?" I ask. "Why give me this power?"
Ezekiel tilts his head, studying me like I'm a fascinating insect. "Because you understand something most humans don't—that the system is broken beyond repair. That evil wins not because it's stronger, but because good people wait for someone else to act. You were drowning, dying, completely destroyed. And your last thought wasn't 'save me.' It was 'I wish I could make them pay.'"
He moves closer, and I feel cold radiating from him like winter.
"That rage, Aria. That pure, crystalline hatred of injustice. That's rare. Most people drown thinking about themselves. You drowned thinking about revenge. About justice. That makes you interesting."
"So I'm what? Your entertainment?"
"You're my investment." His smile widens. "The world is full of monsters wearing human faces. They hide behind laws, money, power. They hurt the innocent and sleep soundly at night. I can't touch them directly—there are rules even I must follow. But you? You're human. Mostly. You can go where I cannot. Do what I cannot."
"You want me to kill people."
"I want you to bring justice." He corrects gently. "How you define that is entirely up to you. Kill them, ruin them, expose them, terrify them—I don't care. All I ask is that you use your gift. Be excellent. Be brutal. Be the nightmare that evil people deserve."
I should be scared. I should run screaming from this demon who bought half my life. But instead, I feel something else.
Purpose.
"The power comes with a price beyond years," Ezekiel continues. "You'll feel it already—emotions dulling. Humanity slipping away bit by bit. The more you use your gifts, the more you become like me. Cold. Efficient. Perfect."
I touch my chest. He's right. The rage I felt yesterday—burning, consuming rage—now feels distant. Clinical. Like I'm observing my own emotions through glass.
"Will I become a monster?" I ask.
"That depends on your definition." Ezekiel's eyes gleam. "You'll become effective. Whether that makes you a monster is philosophy."
He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small black card with gold lettering. A name and address.
"Your first target," he says. "If you're serious about this path. A human trafficker operating out of that warehouse. He's sold forty-three women and children in the last year. Police know. Politicians know. Nobody stops him because he pays the right people."
My fingers close around the card. The name means nothing to me, but the address burns into my memory.
"Why give me a target? I have my own list."
"Consider it a test." Ezekiel steps back toward the roof's edge. "Veronica, Marcus, Lily—they're personal. This man is a stranger. Can you bring justice to someone who never hurt you directly? Or are you just another selfish human seeking revenge?"
"I saved Danny last night," I shoot back. "That wasn't selfish."
"No. That was instinct." He smiles. "This is choice. Hunt this trafficker tonight. Stop him permanently. Prove you're worthy of the gift I gave you. Or ignore him and chase your personal vendettas. Either way, the clock is ticking, Aria. Thirty years goes faster than you think."
He steps off the roof.
I rush to the edge, looking down six stories—but there's nothing. No body. No splatter. He's just gone, like he was never there.
The black card feels heavy in my hand.
A human trafficker. Forty-three victims. Operating freely while police look the other way.
I should go to the police with this information. Let them handle it. That's what normal people do.
But I'm not normal anymore. And the police didn't help me when I needed them.
My phone—the one I took from the gang member—buzzes with a text. I stole it hours ago, but now a new message comes through:
"Chen Technologies board meeting today at 2 PM. Veronica announcing her permanent CEO position. Press will be there. Thought you'd want to know. —Eddie"
Eddie. The maintenance worker who gave me my father's letter. He shouldn't be contacting me, but he did. Maybe his conscience finally beat his fear.
I check the time: 9:47 AM.
I have four hours before Veronica's big moment.
I look at Ezekiel's card again. The trafficker's warehouse is forty minutes from here.
Two choices.
Crash Veronica's meeting and expose her in front of the press. Get justice for my father immediately.
Or hunt the trafficker first. Save people I've never met. Prove I'm more than just a revenge story.
The old Aria—the one who believed in fairy tales and good people—would go save the strangers first.
The new Aria—the one with demon powers and thirty years to live—knows that every second I wait, Veronica gets stronger.
But then I remember Danny's face. That boy nearly died because bad people wanted to hurt his mother. And I remember my father's letter: "I have to do the right thing."
Dad died doing the right thing. Maybe that's my inheritance. Not money or power—just the stubborn refusal to look away from evil.
I make my decision.
The trafficker first. Then Veronica.
Because if I'm going to become a monster hunting monsters, I need to prove I'm hunting for the right reasons.
I pocket the card and prepare to climb down from the roof. But something catches my eye—a flash of silver hair across the street.
A man stands on the opposite rooftop, watching me through binoculars.
Our eyes meet for just a second.
His binoculars drop. He pulls out a phone, speaking rapidly into it.
And then he's running, disappearing behind an air conditioning unit.
Ice floods my veins.
Someone was watching me. Someone saw me talking to Ezekiel. Someone knows.
I race down the fire escape, hitting the ground running. The man had silver hair and wore an expensive coat. Not a cop. Not a gang member. Someone else.
Someone dangerous.
I need to disappear. Need to plan. Need to—
My stolen phone rings. Unknown number.
Against my better judgment, I answer.
"Aria Chen." A man's voice, smooth and cold. "Or should I say, the new Lady Justice?"
"Who is this?"
"Someone who knows what you are. What you've become. That thing you were talking to on the roof? I saw him too." A pause. "We need to meet. Tonight. Pier 47. Because you're not the only one who made a deal with the devil."
The call ends.
My heart pounds. Another person with devil powers? Impossible. Ezekiel said I was special, chosen, rare.
He lied.
And now someone knows my secret.