Howl in the City

The city never slept, and neither did her heartbeat.

Ari weaved through the crowded streets, heels clacking against cracked pavement, neon signs reflecting off puddles like broken mirrors. The air smelled of fried food, gasoline, and something else—something electric, almost alive. She pulled her hoodie tighter around her, trying to disappear into the shadows, but she never quite could. Not when the city hummed with life, not when danger lurked just out of sight, and certainly not when he was near.

Dante.

Her best friend’s father. Smooth. Dangerous. The kind of man whose voice could make a heartbeat skip without even trying. She hated herself for thinking about him, hated the way her chest tightened when he smiled or that low, velvet murmur that made the hair on her arms stand on end. He was off-limits in every sense: old enough to be her father, untouchable by every social rule she knew. Yet here he was, standing on the corner near the old bodega, leaning against a chain-link fence with that lazy confidence that made men like him impossible to ignore.

Their eyes met across the crowd, and Ari felt it: the spark. Not the playful kind. Not the harmless kind. Something sharper. Hot. Dangerous.

“Lost, little wolf?” His voice floated over the street noise, low and teasing, but there was an edge underneath it—predatory, controlled. Ari’s stomach knotted.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, not bothering to look away. The lie tasted bitter in her mouth. She was anything but fine. Her pulse was a drum she couldn’t quiet, and it had nothing to do with the crowded streets around her.

He smiled faintly, eyes glinting under the flickering streetlight, and for a second, Ari swore she could see the curve of his fangs in the shadows. She blinked. It was gone. Just a trick of the light—or maybe something else entirely.

“Be careful walking alone,” he said. The warning was casual, almost fatherly, and yet there was something beneath it. A promise. A threat. She couldn’t decide which.

Before she could answer, a sudden movement caught her attention—a blur darting across the alley, fast and silent, like a shadow with teeth. Her instincts screamed at her, sending shivers down her spine.

Dante’s head snapped toward the noise, and suddenly, he wasn’t just a man leaning against a fence. His stance shifted, coiled like a predator ready to strike. The streetlights glinted off his eyes, golden in a way that wasn’t human.

Ari’s mouth went dry. He’s… No. That wasn’t possible.

“You see it too, don’t you?” His question was soft, but it carried weight, pulling her closer even though she’d never moved an inch.

Before she could answer, the figure lunged from the shadows—a hulking silhouette that moved with unnatural speed. Dante was there in an instant, blocking it with a hand that seemed stronger than any human’s should be. The world erupted into chaos: a blur of motion, snarls, and teeth flashing under the neon. Ari stumbled back, heart racing so hard it felt like it might explode through her chest.

And then it was over. The figure retreated into the darkness as quickly as it had appeared, leaving only a faint echo of growls behind. Dante’s chest rose and fell, calm again, like he hadn’t just been inches from danger.

“You’re not safe out here,” he said quietly, stepping toward her. Close enough now that she could see the golden flecks in his eyes, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his coat hung over broad shoulders like armor. Ari’s knees went weak, and she knew she should step back, should flee, but she didn’t.

“I… I’ll be fine,” she managed to say, though the lie came out shakier than before.

He chuckled softly, a sound that rolled across her skin like fire. “I don’t think you understand what this city really is. Or who’s in it.”

Her stomach turned over. She did understand. That’s why she’d always kept her distance. Yet here she was, heart hammering, pulse racing, trapped in the gravity of a man she shouldn’t want.

The neon lights flickered again, casting his shadow long and dangerous across the cracked pavement. She shivered, but not from cold.

“You’re playing with fire, Ari,” he said, stepping back, letting her breathe but keeping the space charged. “And fire… has a way of burning everything it touches.”

She swallowed hard, suddenly aware of every sound: the distant sirens, the hum of the subway below, the scuff of sneakers against concrete. But it wasn’t the city noises that made her heart skip—it was him. Every inch of him, every word, every look that said more than it should.

Her instincts screamed at her to run. Her desire screamed louder to stay.

“Be careful who you trust,” he added before walking away, disappearing into the crowd like he’d never been there at all.

Ari’s legs felt like lead as she watched him go. Her chest ached with the weight of a desire she couldn’t name, couldn’t fight, and maybe didn’t want to.

And then she heard it: a low, mournful howl that rolled over the city rooftops, echoing through the alleys and streets. It wasn’t human. It wasn’t animal. It was something in between.

Ari’s blood ran cold. The city, the danger, the man she shouldn’t want—it was all connected. And she had a feeling she’d just stepped into a world where the rules didn’t apply.

Where desire could be deadly.