Blood and Justice

Okay, so here’s the deal. I’m Sienna Lockhart, and I’ve just escaped the most boring life imaginable in the suburbs of Sommerkahl. Seriously, if you’ve ever watched paint dry, you’ve basically experienced my childhood. My parents are the epitome of dull—Dad’s an accountant who thinks spreadsheets are thrilling, and Mom’s a librarian who’s obsessed with knitting. I love them, but wow, they’re like human sleeping pills.

Growing up, life was always too quiet for my taste, the only sounds existing in our house being the rustle of turning pages and the clacking of Dad’s calculator. My parents are the best, but their idea of excitement is a new knitting pattern or a particularly tricky tax return. Other than that, I have two siblings: my older brother, Joe, who’s a fitness freak and runs marathons for fun (I know, right?), and my younger sister, Emma, who is basically a genius and already in med school. Then there’s me, the black sheep who moved to the city to become a lawyer for a non-profit. I fight for justice by day and avoid romance like the plague by night.

High school was… interesting. I was the leader of the debate club, which basically means I was the queen of arguing. It’s a skill that comes in handy in my line of work today, but it didn’t exactly make me popular. I was the weird girl who could talk circles around anyone but couldn’t get a date to save her life. My best friends were my debate team members, and we spent our weekends at tournaments, arguing about everything from politics to the ethics of cloning. I know, it sounds nerdy, but I honestly loved it.

Now, I’m in the city, working late at the office because, apparently, justice never sleeps. My job at the non-profit is intense but fulfilling. I handle everything from wrongful eviction cases to fighting for better working conditions for underpaid workers. Just last week, I helped a single mother keep her apartment after her landlord tried to evict her illegally. Those are the moments that make the long hours and the negligible paycheck worth it.

My apartment is a tiny, cluttered space in an old building with creaky floors and questionable plumbing. It’s not much, but it’s mine, and that makes me proud. The walls are lined with bookshelves overflowing with legal texts and mystery novels. I’ve got a small balcony where I’ve managed to grow a few plants, though they’re mostly just surviving rather than thriving… if you can even call it that. And, of course, there’s my closet full of rubber ducks. Oh, perhaps this is not quite as self-explanatory as it is to me… I have all kinds of ducks, a ballerina, a policeman, a doctor… okay, yes, it’s a super embarrassing obsession that started small and has since grown to the proud number of 368. Yeah, you heard that right. I collect them. I’ve got them all hidden in my closet because, let’s face it, no one needs to know about my secret duck army. I’d die if anyone found out.

The building I live in is full of quirky neighbors. Mrs. Jenkins, the elderly lady in the apartment across from mine, insists on baking cookies for everyone, but they always taste like cardboard. Still, she has a heart of gold and always offers me an open ear (even when I don’t need it). Then there’s Tom, an aspiring rock musician who practices his guitar at odd hours and thinks he will be the next big star. Unfortunately, his sexual conquests are equally loud and disturbing as the music he composes. And let’s not forget Mr. Patel who is convinced our building is haunted and has a new ghost story every week. According to him, my apartment is by far the worst, but I try not to let it bother me. So far, the ghosts have been quiet.

I have to admit that I don’t fit too badly into this questionable crowd. I have a habit of bringing home stray animals, much to the chagrin of my landlord, Mr. Stinky McGrumpface (not his real name, but it fits like a glove), a man who enters my life much too frequently for my taste, especially since he’s always unreachable as soon as something needs to be repaired. Weird, huh?

Despite the excitement and stress that comes with my job, loneliness tends to creep in during the quiet moments, especially in the evening. I have friends, sure, but most of them are busy with their own lives. Joe is always training for his next marathon, and Emma practically lives inside her medical textbooks. We keep in touch, but it’s not the same as having someone to come home to.

I tell myself I’m fine with it. I have my work, my ducks, and my plants. But sometimes, late at night, I wonder if there’s more to life than this. Maybe I’m just too stubborn to admit that I’m lonely. Or maybe I’m too scared to try again after so many failed attempts at dating. And my conviction that most people are only out for themselves in this wolf-eat-wolf world surely doesn’t make it any better.

Tonight, as I sit at my desk, surrounded by case files and empty coffee cups, I can’t help but feel envious of those who have it all figured out. But then I shake it off. I have a job to do, and people who need me. That has to be enough for now.

After a long day, I finally collapse on my couch and turn on the TV. Nothing good is on, only reruns of shows I’ve seen a million times. And since I have just recently canceled my streaming service to save some money, I’m so bored I could scream. In a moment of weakness, I grab my phone and download a dating app called “LoveQuest.” It’s supposed to be the latest thing, but I’m skeptical. My previous experiences have been anything but successful. The good thing is, they made me appreciate being single a lot more. Now that I think about it, I don’t know if that’s actually a good thing. My parents definitely don’t think so.

I start swiping and immediately regret it. The first guy, Dave, sends me a message: “Hey, do you like cheese? Because I’m nacho average guy.” I cringe so hard I almost drop my phone.

The second guy, Mike, asks, “If you were a vegetable, what would you be?” I reply, “A carrot, I guess?” He responds, “Cool, I’d be a potato because I’m a couch potato.” I can’t even.

The third guy, Steve, sends a dick pic with the caption, “Do you like what you see?” I roll my eyes and block him.

I’m about to give up when I match with two guys who seem halfway normal. The first one, Alex, is a graphic designer who loves dogs and hiking. We chat for a bit, and he seems genuinely nice.

Alex: So, what do you do for fun?

Me: I collect rubber ducks.

I figure it’s best to test him early on.

Alex: Seriously?

Me: Yeah, it’s a thing. Don’t judge.

Alex: No judgment here. I have a collection of vintage comic books.

Me: Okay, you’re officially cool.

I schedule a lunch date with him for tomorrow because he seems down-to-earth and easy to talk to. The second guy, Ben, is a history teacher who likes to cook and travel. Our conversation flows easily, and he makes me laugh with his stories about his students.

Ben: What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever done?

Me: I once tried to teach my cat to fetch. It didn’t go well.

Ben: Cats are too smart for that. They know it’s a dog thing.

Me: Exactly! She just looked at me like I was crazy.

Ben: I like your sense of humor. So, what’s your favorite dish to cook?

Me: I make a mean lasagna. What about you?

Ben: I’m more of a dessert guy. I make a killer chocolate mousse.

We set up a dinner date for tomorrow night. He seems friendly enough, although he might be a bit boring. But hey, I heard that is the kind of guy you’re supposed to look for. Sigh…

As I put my phone down, I wonder whether I made the right decision. Tomorrow could be interesting, or it could be a disaster. Either way, it’s something to look forward to because I won’t be alone. I just hope I don’t end up with another crypto enthusiast or a guy who talks about his ex all night.

Before I can drift off to sleep, my mind wanders to a particularly tricky case I’m working on. It involves a group of factory workers who are being grossly underpaid and forced to work in unsafe conditions. The factory owner is a slippery character with a team of high-powered lawyers. It’s going to be a tough battle, but I’m determined to see it through. I’ve been gathering evidence and preparing for the court date, but there’s still so much to do.

As I lie in bed, I can’t help but worry about the case. What if I don’t have enough evidence? What if the factory owner gets away with it? The weight of responsibility presses down on me, but I push it aside. I’ll deal with it tomorrow.

For now, I let my thoughts drift to Alex and Ben. What will they be like in person? Will we hit it off, or will it be another disaster? With a mixture of confusing thoughts, I finally drift off to sleep, wondering what tomorrow will bring.

I wake up to the sound of squeaking. At first, I think it’s part of a dream, but as I groggily open my eyes, I realize it’s very real. The alarm says 06:57 am. Why am I awake before it went off?

As it turns out, Whiskers, my mischievous cat, has somehow managed to get into my closet and is now having the time of her life with my prized rubber duck collection.

“Whiskers, no!” I groan, throwing off my blanket and rushing to the closet. The sight that greets me is a disaster. Rubber ducks of all shapes and sizes are scattered across the floor, and Whiskers is batting at them with gleeful abandon.

I scoop up the little troublemaker, who meows in protest, and place her outside the closet. “You little rascal,” I mutter, surveying the mess. I glance at my alarm clock and realize that I’m already running late. “Great, just great.”

I quickly gather the ducks, trying to remember where each one belongs. The ballerina duck, the policeman duck, the doctor duck—they all have their specific spots. As I work, I can’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. “Only me,” I say to myself as I shake my head.

By the time I've restored order to my duck army, I’m officially late. Rushing through my morning routine like a crazy person, I skip breakfast and barely manage to brush my hair. I throw on the first outfit I can find—a mismatched ensemble that will have to do—and grab my bag, stuffing a black dress into it for my date after work.

As I hurry out the door, I nearly collide with Mrs. Jenkins, who is carrying a tray of her infamous cookies. “Good morning, dear! Would you like a cookie?” Mrs. Jenkins asks, her eyes twinkling.

“Not today, Mrs. Jenkins, I’m already late,” I reply and sidestep the tray she has just placed on the floor, making a beeline for the stairs.

“Alright, dear. Have a good day!” the sweet, old lady calls after me.

As I dash down the stairs and out of the building, my mind races with thoughts of the day ahead. I have a big meeting with a client and can’t afford to be late. I hate letting people down. While I hurry to the subway station, I mentally rehearse my arguments, suppressing the lingering frustration from my chaotic morning.

When I finally arrive at the office, I’m out of breath and frazzled. My colleague, Sarah, the office’s ray of sunshine, raises an eyebrow as I stumble in. “Rough morning?”

“You have no idea,” I reply, dropping my bag on my desk and collapsing into my chair.

Our boss, Mr. Thompson, a stern but fair man in his fifties with a penchant for bow ties, walks by and glances at his watch. “Late again, Sienna?” he asks, but his tone is more amused than annoyed. He has a soft heart beyond all that tough exterior.

Since I’m not going to admit to my rubber duck collection, I scramble for an excuse. “Uh, there was a... a squirrel in my apartment. It took forever to get it out.”

Mr. Thompson frowns and lifts an eyebrow but leaves it alone. “Just make sure it doesn't happen again. We have a lot of work to do.”

I nod, grateful he doesn’t ask for more details. Turning to my other colleague, Mark, who is the office cynic, I hear a dry laugh. “A squirrel, huh? That's a new one.”

“Yeah, well, it was a very determined squirrel,” I reply, rolling my eyes.

Sarah pats me on the back. “Don't worry, Sienna. We all have those days.”

I smile at Sarah’s goodhearted nature. “Thanks, Sarah.”

The office itself is a busy mess. Desks are piled high with case files, and the walls are decorated with motivational posters and photos of successful cases. The atmosphere is one of controlled chaos, with phones ringing and people rushing back and forth.

My morning flies by in a blur of paperwork, meetings, and phone calls. Before I know it, it’s time for my lunch date with Alex. I meet him at a small café near the office. Alex is a graphic designer with a friendly smile who is casually dressed, but as we sit down to eat, it quickly becomes apparent that we have nothing in common.

“So, what do you do for fun?” Alex asks, trying to make conversation.

“I like hiking,” I reply in the hope of finding some common ground.

“Really? That’s awesome! I love hiking, too. What’s your favorite trail?” he asks, his eyes lighting up.

“Uh, well, I haven’t actually been hiking recently. I just like the idea of it,” I admit, a bit embarrassed.

Alex’s smile falters. “Oh, I see.”

The conversation quickly becomes awkward, and I find myself ready to bolt, the lunch date ending on a painfully awkward note.

Back at the office, I throw myself into my work, trying to forget the awkward lunch. I have a stack of case files to go through and a meeting with a client who is facing eviction. The afternoon passes quickly, and soon it’s time for my dinner date with Ben.

ADRIAN

As I enter the dark restaurant, the scent of human food mingles with the faint, intoxicating aroma of blood. I’m here on business, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have a little bit of fun. My eyes scan the room as I take a seat at the bar, and then I see her. She's waiting at the hostess stand to be seated. The woman is facing away from me, her figure outlined by the soft glow of the chandelier above. There’s something about the way she stands, confident yet relaxed, that catches my attention. It's been a long time since I've been with a woman, and I can’t help but admire her. From behind, her figure is captivating, a perfect blend of strength and grace—and with an ass to die for. I release a quiet groan. My eyes feast on the narrowing waist, the curve accentuated by the fitted dress she wears. My eyes move upwards to her fiery hair that falls in loose waves down her back. Just my type. Perhaps, this night will turn out more interesting than I expected.

My body reacts instinctively, a primal hunger igniting within me. I clench my jaw, trying to maintain control. It has been so long since I’ve felt this… need so strongly. The physical ache of desire stirs within me, a reminder of denying myself such pleasures for far too long. The mission always comes first, and I’m not one to take kindly to distractions. I’m not a prude by any means. In fact, I am well-versed in the art of pleasure, if I may say so myself, but I am also very selective. And now is not the right time. Maybe after I have accomplished what I set out to do.

My eyes return to scanning the room, searching for the nonprofit lawyer I’ve been trying to track down. I need her help to navigate the human legal system and bring a rogue of my kind to justice. The rogue has been preying on the city’s homeless, and his actions are drawing too much attention. This is a problem for all of us. If I don’t stop him, it could expose our entire world. But, of course, I’m not going to fail. Failure is never an option where I’m concerned. After all, I’m the best of the best.

I shake my head, trying to focus. I can't afford to get distracted. I need to find this lawyer and convince her to help me. The rogue, Marcus, is a member of a secret society that believes in using humans as cattle. They see themselves as superior, destined to rule over humanity. Marcus has been targeting the homeless because they’re vulnerable and less likely to be missed. But his actions are reckless, and he’s a bit of an idiot. If the human authorities get involved, it could lead to a full-scale hunt for our kind, and I’m not going to let that happen.

As I watch the woman, she turns slightly, and I catch a glimpse of her profile. My breath catches in my throat. Her features striking—high cheekbones, full lips, and eyes that seem to hold a world of secrets. My body tenses, the hunger within me growing stronger. I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to taste her, to feel her warmth against me.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. This is not the time for such thoughts. I need to stay focused. But as I watch her, I feel a pull, a connection I can’t explain. Something is different about her.

Sienna Lockhart. The name reverberates through my mind. The lawyer I’ve been looking for. I curse under my breath. Of all the people in this city, it had to be her. I should have known. That red hair does not come around too often.

I don’t get involved sexually with those I work with. It's a rule I’ve always followed. But as I watch Sienna, I feel my resolve weakening. I’ve been watching her from afar for a few days, and she intrigues me. I want to know more about her, to understand what makes her tick.

Sienna turns fully, her gaze searching for someone. When she sees me watch her, her eyes widen in surprise. I calm my heated body and approach her, my mind almost a bit dazed. I can’t reveal who I am or why I’m here. Not yet. Her trust doesn’t come easy, that much wasn’t difficult to find out.