I don’t bolt. That’s a rookie mistake. Instead, I slide into the alley beside the old strip market where the dumpsters squat likerusted beasts, reeking of brine and burnt synth-meat. I wait, half-hidden behind one.
When I hear the scrape of footsteps near the bend, I step out fast, chin up, palms loose at my sides—but ready.
He’s there.
My breath stutters. Not from fear. Not exactly.
The green-scaled Grolgath. Taller than any human I’ve ever met, broad-shouldered and terrifying in that way only predators can be—silent, still, and completely focused.
The alley light behind me glints off the curve of his chest, highlighting muscle beneath his coat. His red eyes glow—not harshly, not menacingly. They smolder. Like embers banked beneath wet wood. Controlled. Watching.
I swallow and lift my chin higher. “Are you following me?”
No answer. His expression doesn’t change, but something shifts in his stance. Not forward, not back—just… grounded. Present.
I press on. My voice wavers, but I don’t let it break. “You’ve been at the Coil. I saw you. You—what do you want from me?”
Still nothing. Just those eyes locked on mine.
He reaches slowly into his coat pocket. My pulse spikes, feet ready to run—but he doesn’t draw a weapon. Instead, he extends his clawed hand, palm open.
My bracelet lies there. Fragile chain, crescent charm, old and half-broken from years of wear. A piece of me. A piece of a different life.
I stare.
He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t gesture. Just holds it, steady and unshaking.
I step forward. Careful. One step. Then two. My boots splash quietly in the puddles. I pause just close enough to take it. His hand doesn’t twitch.
Fingers trembling, I pluck it from his palm. Our skin doesn’t touch, but I swear I feel heat radiating off him. Something deep and old and hungry coils in the space between us.
“I didn’t even know I dropped it,” I say softly, eyes darting up to meet his. “You… you followed me just for this?”
No reply. His face is unreadable, but his gaze is not. It devours. Not with lechery or lust—not like the drunks and gamblers. This is deeper. Hotter. Like I’m a puzzle he’s been trying to solve since the moment he saw me.
“You don’t have to keep showing up,” I whisper, clenching the bracelet in my hand. “I’m not… I’m nobody.”
His eyes narrow slightly. Not angry. Like I’ve said something stupid. Wrong.
I take a shaky breath. “You’re not with Ataxian enforcement, are you?”
Nothing.
“Because if you are—” I break off, voice cracking. The lie I want to spin dies in my throat.
He just stares. And somehow, I believe him more for what he doesn’t say than I would with a thousand words.
“Then why?” I ask, almost begging now. “Why are you watching me?”
Still silent. But his chest rises and falls once. Deliberate. Like restraint costs him something.
I take a step back, heart racing in my throat. “This isn’t… I can’t afford to be noticed. Not like this.”
He doesn’t follow. Doesn’t flinch. Just watches as I retreat.
I turn. Walk away fast. My hand clutches the bracelet so tight the chain digs into my skin.
I don’t look back. But I feel him.
