BITTEN

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The heavy downpour flooded the streets, creating unbearable traffic. I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, glancing at my watch—8:15 p.m. Great. I was late.

My phone beeped again, vibrating on the passenger seat. I didn’t need to check to know who it was.

*"You better not be late for my party, Kara. And please wear the dress I got for you. I love you. See you soon. Your best friend, Kelly."*

I rolled my eyes. Kelly could be so dramatic.

The streetlights cast a dull glow over the wet roads as I drove, but my mind wasn’t on the traffic or the rain. It was on the case Zach had handed me this morning.

Another hiker found dead—third one this month. Same bite marks, same mountain area. The department was being careful, but everyone had the same suspect in mind: werewolves.

The thought lingered until I reached home. A quick shower, a struggle against my mattress calling me to bed, and then I was forcing myself into the dress Kelly had picked out.

It clung to me in all the wrong ways, the slit on the side making me feel more exposed than I liked. I paired it with sneakers because I refused to suffer in heels.

The club was packed. Music pounded in my ears, and the air was thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat, and too much perfume.

As I wove through the crowd, I felt completely out of place.

Finally, I reached the VIP lounge.

"Karaaaa! Darling, you made it! You're late, but I'm glad you're here. Come on!" Kelly practically shrieked, throwing her arms around me.

"Of course, I made it, Kelly. I can’t afford to miss your birthday, not after all the threats you sent me," I said, rolling my eyes.

She grinned, pulling me toward a couch. I sat, tugging at my dress as my gaze drifted over the crowd. Half-naked women, drunk men, and a bass so loud I could feel it in my chest. This wasn’t my scene.

I pulled out my phone, scrolling aimlessly, when something—or rather, someone—caught my attention.

Rodrigo.

My body tensed instantly. He sat at the bar, nursing a drink like he didn’t have an outstanding warrant with his name on it.

I barely thought before I moved. Sliding onto a barstool a few seats away, I ordered a fruit juice.

"A fancy drink for a fancy lady," a voice drawled beside me.

I turned my head slightly, locking eyes with him.

Rodrigo.

"So sorry, I can’t say the same about you," I muttered, taking a sip of my drink.

His lips curved into that smug smile. "Oh, come on, sweet Kara. You and I both know you don’t mean that."

I gritted my teeth at the nickname. "What are you up to this time, Rodrigo? Do I need to keep an eye on you?"

He laughed, deep and amused. "If there’s one thing I admire about you, it’s your guts. You’re fearless. I like that. Sweet Kara."

"Don’t call me that," I snapped.

He just chuckled. "Alright, *sweet* Kara. I’ll catch you later."

I watched him leave, my grip tightening around my glass. Frustrating bastard.

As I downed the rest of my drink, a shift in the room’s atmosphere made me pause. The air grew thick, charged with something unspoken. The doors swung open, and a group walked in.

They moved differently—like they owned the place. And maybe they did.

Two men led the group, both striking in their own way. But my gaze landed on one.

Tall. Chiseled jaw. Sharp nose. A presence that made the air feel heavier.

I swallowed.

"The Gaspers," the bartender murmured, sliding me another drink. "Thiago Gasper and his younger brother, Dylan."

I knew of them. Everyone did. The Gasper family was one of the wealthiest in the country, but their influence ran deeper than money. Seeing them here? Unexpected.

Dylan’s gaze flickered in my direction.

I froze.

It wasn’t just a look. It was like he *saw* me—like he was staring right into my mind, peeling away my thoughts, feeding on something deeper.

I forced myself to look away.

"Don’t stare too long, darling," the bartender chuckled. "Those aren’t the kind of men for a pretty, innocent thing like you."

I frowned. "Why would you assume I’m innocent?"

He smirked. "It’s obvious. You’re uncomfortable in that dress. You drink juice at a club. And no woman pairs a dress with sneakers unless she’s new to all this."

Heat crawled up my neck. I grabbed my drink and walked away before he could say another word.

Kelly whined when I told her I was leaving, but I used work as an excuse.

"Kara, you work too much," she slurred, holding onto my arm.

"I’ll have fun next time, Kelly. You’re drunk."

"No, I’m not!"

I laughed, shaking my head. "Yes, you are. Message me when you get home. Love you."

With that, I left.

The night air was cool against my skin as I walked to my car. But something felt *off*.

I glanced around.

Nothing.

Still, the feeling of being watched clung to me.

I got into my car and drove home.

The Next Day

The office was packed. Detectives, agents, analysts—all gathered for the morning briefing.

I flipped through the case files, scanning the reports, when Zach’s voice pulled me back.

"Kara, what have you got so far?"

I looked up. "Still investigating, sir. These things take time. Once I have something concrete, I’ll report it."

The meeting dragged on, but eventually, it ended. Zach motioned for me to stay back.

I sat across from him as he slid his phone across the desk.

"I got this message from my intel. Thought it might be useful."

I picked it up, reading the text. My eyes widened.

"*How?*"

Zach leaned back. "I have eyes and ears everywhere, Miss Nox."

I exhaled, handing his phone back. "I’ll go tonight, then."

His expression darkened slightly, but he nodded.

As I stood to leave, his voice stopped me.

"And Miss Nox…"

I turned back. "Yes, sir?"

"Be careful." His voice was quieter this time.

I smiled. "As always, Boss."

Then I walked out, my mind already on the night ahead.