The night didn’t belong to GrayHaven.

  The city that usually hummed with laughter and warm light had folded into a storm. Rain slashed the streets. Neon signs flickered like they were afraid of the dark too.

  A woman stepped out of a grocery store, clutching a paper bag to her chest. She hurried toward her car, coat pulled tight against the wind.

  Then a scream.

  Sharp. Human. Buried in the throat of a nearby alley.

  She froze. Her breath hitched. Another scream ripped through the dark, and instinct took over. She bolted to her car, keys fumbling in trembling hands. The lock clicked. She tumbled inside, tossed her groceries into the back seat, and slammed the door.

  But then, a body crashed against her window.

  She shrieked, flung the door open, and ran. Rain blurred everything into streaks, but she could feel it. There was something behind her. Footsteps that didn’t sound like footsteps. Too fast. Too close.

  She hit a dead-end alley. A wall. No escape.

  Something stepped into the mouth of the alley. It gave a slow, deliberate walk she couldn't make of the creature. All she saw was its red eyes and claws dragging across brick, the sound scraping up her spine.

  Her knees weakened.

  “Please,” she whispered. “I didn’t do anything. Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone.”

  The thing kept coming. It didn’t respond. It struck fast. A blur. Pain tore across her face as she collapsed. Sirens wailed somewhere beyond the storm.

  She looked up.

  The alley was empty.

  Flashlights swept in.

  “Freeze! Hands where we can see them!”

  She threw her hands up, trembling. Officers rushed in, followed by paramedics. Then a detective approached.

  “What did you see?” Hayes asked, voice calm, eyes sharp.

  “I didn’t see its face,” the woman whispered. “Just the eyes. They were red. And there was something on its back. It looked like wings… I don't know what it was.”

  “Which direction did it go?”

  “It didn’t go anywhere,” she said. “It vanished.”

  Hayes nodded once. “Thank you, ma’am. If you remember anything else, call us. You did great.”

  “You saved my life,” the woman said. “I owe you everything.”

  Hayes stepped away, her jaw tight. Her partner caught her expression.

  “That’s the third case this week,” he muttered. “Same story. Red eyes. Missing body parts. This isn’t a prank.”

  Hayes exhaled through her teeth. “Whatever it is, I’m not spending my Christmas chasing it blind. Get the body to autopsy. I want the report tonight.”

  Her partner ran off. Hayes turned toward her car but stopped when someone called out.

  “Detective Hayes!”

  She turned,

  “Cannon. Didn’t know you were on this case.”

  He adjusted his coat, rain dripping from his collar. “Got transferred. And it’s Lieutenant now.”

  “Congratulations,” she said flatly. “Try not to let the promotion go to your head. GrayHaven’s in crisis.”

  “That’s why they sent me,” he replied. “You need the best they can offer.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “We already have the best,” she shot back. “And I’d love for you to leave my city. This isn’t your business.”

  Cannon raised an eyebrow. “Is your ego really what we’re doing tonight?”

  “Oh, please,” Hayes said, breath misting in the cold. “We both know why you’re back. And it’s not to save anyone.”

  His smile thinned. “If you say so. But your captain called me personally. So you’ll be seeing more of me for a while. Just wanted to say hello.”

  She rolled her eyes, slid into her car, and drove off into the storm.

  Hayes slipped her keys on the counter the moment she entered.

  “Mom, I’m home.”

  Her mother leaned from the kitchen doorway, apron still on. “Welcome. Dinner’s ready.”

  They ate quietly, the kind of silence that held things unsaid.

  The storm outside kept tapping at the windows like it wanted in.

  “So,” her mother asked, “rough day?”

  Hayes poked at her food. “Weird.”

  Her mother’s eyes sharpened. “Did it happen again?”

  Hayes exhaled. “Yeah. Third time this week. I don’t know what’s doing it. A mountain lion? A sick prank? The reports say it’s… man-shaped. Or something pretending to be. I mean, red eyes. Wings? I don’t even know. Nothing adds up.”

  “Get some sleep,” her mother said gently. “You’ve been chasing shadows for weeks. Answers come easier when you’re not dying on your feet.”

  “Alright.” Hayes murmured, and headed upstairs.

  She peeled off her coat, turned on the shower, and let the hot water drown the day. When she stepped out, toweling her hair, her phone buzzed with an unknown number.

  She answered it.

  Someone was crying on the other end. Wet, panicked sobs. Then a voice slid through, it was a low, electronic whisper, like a transmission struggling through static.

  “Detective Hayes. How interesting. I didn’t think you’d pick up.”

  Her spine straightened. “Who the hell is this?”

  “Oh, come on. You should know. You’ve been sniffing around my business all month. Tell me, why exactly?”

  She quietly tapped the record button.

  The voice chuckled. “You don’t need to record this. I could just drop by your house and tell you everything you need to know.”

  She froze. “Who the hell is this?” She said confidently. “You've got no idea who you're dealing with”.

  “Actually”, the voice said, “I know exactly who I’m dealing with.” Then it listed her height. Her hair color. Her car. Her house number.

  Hayes snapped. “Do you have any idea how many laws you just broke? If this is a prank…"

  “Relax Detective,” it said lightly. “I just need information.”

  “You know this call can be traced. Why contact me?”

  “Because I want you to find me. Not your team. Not your captain. You.”

  Her jaw clenched. “I don’t negotiate with terrorists. You’ve killed fourteen people in three weeks. And you want my help?”

  “Terrorist?” It laughed softly. "You think too small.”

  Hayes snapped, “What do you want?”

  “A name,” it said. “Someone I can’t track.”

  “Why should I help you?”

  “Because you’re better than your department. Seventeen solved cases in two weeks. Impressive.”

  “Enough! Who are you?”

  “Someone with a grudge,” the voice whispered. “And you’ll help me whether you want to or not.”

  Gunfire erupted through the speaker. Metal clanged. Screams followed.

  “Detective… I know you’re tracing the call. Save the effort. I’m at 1820 Brighton Route. Third warehouse. Come alone.”

  The line went dead.

  Cannon immediately launched SWAT.

  But another strike team arrived first—black uniforms, wing-shaped crests on their chests. The same crest as the screaming woman.

  Gunfire roared. Something tore through the warehouse like a storm with claws.

  By the time Hayes arrived, the silence felt unnatural.

  Bodies were scattered everywhere. Not even the shape of humans remained. Limbs carved apart. Faces gone. Bones broken beyond recognition.

  Not slaughter.

  Erasure.

  “My God…” an officer whispered. “What did this?”

  They ran voice recognition through every database.

  Nothing.

  “The subject does not exist!” the machine spat out.

  Hayes stared at the report.

  “What kind of person leaves no record?”

  “Maybe not a person,” Cannon muttered.

  GrayHaven wasn’t just in danger.

  It was being stalked.