Chapter 1
The sixteen-story building stood tall against the skyline, offering a breath-taking panoramic view of the river winding through the city below. The rooftop had become my little sanctuary—a quiet escape from the hustle and bustle of daily life. With its cosy seating and the gentle breeze sweeping across the top, it felt like a hidden gem where time stood still. Most days, the space remained peacefully empty, with only the occasional visitor drifting up to admire the view.
My friend Andrew and I were often drawn to this peaceful retreat. We’d worked side by side for years, but our connection ran deeper—we had been friends since childhood. Together, we’d reminisce, dream, and bask in the calm the rooftop offered. It was during one such moment, with the sun setting and casting a warm golden hue over the city, that my phone rang, slicing through the stillness. The sound felt jarringly out of place.
“Oops, I forgot to switch it off,” I muttered, pressing the shutdown button.
“It’s too late. I’ve already found you, Layla,” Andrew’s voice came from behind. “You’re so predictable.”
“I know.”
He came over and sat beside me, wiping away my tears with a swift motion.
“You’re stubborn,” he said, nudging my shoulder gently.
“I won’t deny it.” I smiled faintly.
“And you ignore any advice.”
“Really? Are you aware you’re invading my privacy?”
“Spending too much time alone, avoiding people—it becomes addictive. Is it... today?” He handed me a napkin.
“Yes. I’m grieving for my brother today... But you’re here on business, so go ahead.”
“Vaden wants you back at work. It’ll distract you from the pain. We all miss you.”
“Thank you. That means a lot. Was Dad at work today?”
“He took the day off.”
“Good. Could you tell them I’ll be back tomorrow? You know me—I’ll be fine.”
The ten-story building where I work is cloaked in secrecy, a silent sentinel hidden in plain sight. There’s no sign marking our organization, and its location is nearly invisible to the outside world. Even Google Maps draws a blank. Only specialized national forces know of our existence, each unit discreetly aware of the others’ roles and contact details. This isn’t the kind of job you stumble into—it finds you, as if waiting for the right person to come along.
I took the stairs to my office on the sixteenth floor, more out of habit than necessity. I’ve never liked confined spaces, and although the elevator works perfectly, the thought of being sealed inside it always makes me uneasy. My colleagues understand, even admire my determination to climb all those flights of stairs daily. After five years, the rhythm of the stairwell has become familiar—almost meditative.
Returning to work after time off carries a certain weight, as though a week’s worth of responsibilities suddenly drop onto your shoulders. Each step I took was a mix of dread and anticipation, but the routine grounded me. Even in a place hidden from the world, I found purpose.
“Layla, did you invite everyone involved in the investigation?” Vaden caught me in the corridor.
“Time will tell,” I said, trying to joke.
“Don’t mess around. Get them all to my office.”
“Andrew already gathered them. I’m just a little late.”
“Well, I still have to stop by your father’s office. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He walked a few steps, then turned. “Please ask Rita to make coffee or drinks for everyone.”
“No problem, Vaden. We’ll be waiting.”
“I’m happy to see everyone,” Vaden said with a small chuckle as he entered his office. He went to his desk and sat down. “Werewolves are rarely seen in our department.” He glanced at the four men sitting on the leather couch. “Do any of you know why the First and Second Departments are working together?”
“People are going missing under mysterious circumstances,” said a man with dark brown hair. “A day later, they’re found unconscious with bite marks. So far, there have been five victims. They all survived, but none remember anything.”
I met his gaze and saw his eyes were brown. He looked at me so intensely I had to glance away, focusing instead on Vaden, who was nodding.
“Emerson, you’re right.”
“He’s a vampire humanist,” Peter blurted out. He was always the most impulsive among us—a telepath, likely shaped by his job.
Suddenly, my phone rang loudly. Twelve eyes turned to me. I cringed.
“Sorry.” As I fumbled through my bag, the unmistakable chorus of ‘I Hate Everything About You’ by Three Days Grace played for all to hear. I quickly silenced it and exhaled in relief.
“There she is—Layla, our strategist. She sees the future through water, any liquid really, or reflective surfaces. She doesn’t have active powers and isn’t physically trained, so we’re assigning her a strong partner,” Vaden said, scanning the werewolves. “Emerson, you’ll protect Layla on this mission.”
“Okay,” Emerson replied without looking at me.
I didn’t know him personally, but his reputation preceded him—self-assured, arrogant, and admired across both werewolves and human agents. Admittedly, he was attractive, with that smouldering, unreadable look. But still, a monster. Not just because he was a werewolf, but because of the things I’d heard—what he did to women, his dominance, his alpha behaviour. I didn’t like werewolves.
That’s when I realized I’d forgotten to wear my amulet—a protective stone that shielded thoughts from telepaths. Andrew’s raised eyebrows confirmed my mistake. I dove into my bag, fingers trembling, until I found the amulet at the bottom and fastened it around my neck. The mental barrier it provided settled my nerves.
The mood lightened as Rita came in with a tray of coffee and tea. The rich aroma filled the room. Vaden began assigning pairs: Alex with Andrew, Arthur with Peter, Jackson (a telekinetic werewolf) with Olly (brilliant but physically frail), and finally, Sofia with Michael—a hypnotist and a martial artist who could see through others’ eyes. Their synergy was flawless.
I wrapped my hands around a warm mug. The familiar weight grounded me.
Sometimes, I feared looking into my drink. It was a strange kind of dread—never knowing what I might see reflected back. Not just images, but entire paths unfurling with terrifying clarity. The most unsettling part wasn’t the vision—it was the certainty. That the future I saw couldn’t be changed. Lately, those glimpses had turned grim. For me, and for everyone.
A sharp knock at my door jolted me. I wasn’t expecting anyone. The night had been quiet until then. Unease crept in. I looked through the peephole—Emerson.
When I opened the door, he smiled slightly, a bag in hand.
“Hi. I’ll be staying with you for the investigation.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, backing away as he walked in.
He set the bag down and looked around.
“This arrangement maximizes our security protocols.”
“You took Vaden too literally. I’m entitled to a personal life, you know.”
“I know you have a spare room. I’ll pay rent,” he said, pulling out his wallet.
“I’m not the most welcoming person. And I don’t know much about werewolves. We might not get along.”
“I’m not just a werewolf. I’m also a man. Do you get along with men?”
“Do you always draw conclusions from thin air?” I snapped.
“You live alone. You work constantly. You’re still in contact with your ex, but you’re not dating. You’ve probably kept his gifts and photos. I’ve also heard you don’t get along with your father. Looks like some psychological trauma’s shaped your view of men. That’s why you’re alone.”
I wanted to throw something at him—but he wasn’t entirely wrong.
“Okay. My father and I do have issues. I don’t have trauma over it. I haven’t spoken to my ex, but he’s been calling. I’ve deleted the photos and returned the gifts. Yes, I’m single—but that’s temporary.”
“Are you sure you’re ready for a new relationship?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Are you?” He smiled knowingly.
He stepped closer. The air felt charged. His hand reached out, brushing my face. Then his lips met mine, softly at first. A second kiss followed—deeper, more certain. I froze, wide-eyed, caught in the shock. Then I pushed him away.
“Hey! I’m ready for a relationship—but not with you.”
“Well, when you come running to me, I’ll remember you said that.”
“I don’t mix work and personal life. We’re just partners.”
“Then decide—stop projecting weird fantasies or kick me out.”
“Fine. Let’s pretend that didn’t happen.”
“Agreed. If needed, I’ll remind you.”
“Also—don’t tell anyone at work you’re staying here. I don’t want rumours.”
“Andrew gave me the address.”
“What?! He’s my friend!”
After calming down, I added, “The bathroom’s behind you, kitchen’s further in, your room is to the right. There’s pilaf in a pot. Help yourself.”
I closed my bedroom door behind me, the click echoing in the silence. Why would he choose my apartment? He could afford a suite or his own place. Sure, my apartment was nice—but it was mine.
My phone rang. Antony.
“Hi, Antony. What do you want?” I said, forcing my voice to stay neutral.
“Hi. Thanks for picking up. I really need your help.”
I rolled my eyes. “Predictable. I’m hanging up.”
“Wait—I was found unconscious in the park. With two bite marks on my neck.”
My breath caught.
This wasn’t the usual drama.
And I knew I couldn’t ignore it.
