A Week Later

A week had passed and Dylan had been busy. He was being followed by the damned priest and this limited his movements. Fortunately, he had people eager to prove their loyalty to him and gain the favor of the mysterious figure behind him.

Dylan made a call to 20 Shots with two requests. He needed 20 to send some of his boys to the Lux nightclub where the killing happened.

They were to hit the streets and talk to people—bartenders, low-level dealers, and hustlers who kept an ear to the ground. Dylan was certain one of them must know something about the informant.

The second request was to have Officer Rachel Vasquez trailed. He needed to know her routine and movements.

Why?

The best way of getting information regarding a case the police are involved in is by asking the police. Dylan's charm wasn't absolute—It was an ability that leveraged his sex appeal to compel females to do his bidding.

While he could use this ability to make himself likable amongst men, it wouldn't push them to do something extreme—unless they were gay and Dylan didn't want any of that.

Officer Rachel was a 27-year-old officer who lost her partner/husband six months ago to a confrontation with local gangsters that took a deadly turn.

They both served in the force, and her colleagues had great respect for their deceased husband, so none approached her sexually even though she was extremely attractive—Yet!

In exchange for the information and the extra $ 1.5 million, Dylan agreed to arrange a meeting with the LNS cartel and his 'Master' three weeks from now—that's 2 weeks after Malik's trial.

—-------

Dylan stood in the shadows, his gaze locked onto his target—a young female officer exiting the station. Officer Rachel Vasquez always took the same route home, stopping by a nearby café before heading to the parking lot.

She was a 5 '8 blonde with perfect medium-sized breasts and a mouthwatering hourglass shape, which her uniform couldn't hide. Watching her move, Dylan couldn't help but lick his lips in anticipation of the hunt.

Dylan moved with purpose, ensuring their paths would cross naturally. As she rounded the corner near the café, he adjusted his pace.

Just as she reached for her car keys, Dylan "accidentally" bumped into her.

"Oh—sorry about that," he said smoothly, flashing an apologetic smile.

Rachel glanced up, startled but not alarmed.

"It's fine," she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Dylan tilted his head.

"Officer Vasquez, right? I think I've seen you around."

"And you are?" She raised a brow, studying him.

{Hohoho! Someone isn't famous enough!} Lich laughed hysterically.

Dylan was taken aback by this question and quickly dismissed it as a mistake due to the poor lighting.

"Dylan Morningstar," he said, extending a hand. "Attorney."

Recognition flickered in her eyes.

"Right… the defense lawyer."

Buzz!

Dylan's jaw tightened and his stomach churned at those words. How could they refer to him as just a 'defense lawyer' when there were hundreds of girls begging to spend a night with him?

When 20 Shots' boys returned with their findings, Dylan was in disbelief. He was shocked when he heard she wasn't involved with anyone and always kept to herself.

'Could virtuous women really exist in this day and age?'

Dylan remembered blurting those words, and Clara flashed a murderous glare his way.

"Guilty as charged. You must deal with a lot of guys like me." Dylan chuckled.

{Charm used}

{-1 DF}

{19/20}

At this moment, the world seemed to go silent and time paused for Rachel. She began noticing his attractive traits— purple stripes, violet eyes, oval-shaped face, a perfect dentition, and many more.

"More than I'd like." Rachel blushed.

Her posture relaxed, her previous wariness fading as they exchanged casual words. Within minutes, the conversation shifted from work to small talk.

Dylan made sure to lean in just enough, his voice warm, his eyes attentive.

"I should get going." Rachel glanced at her phone.

"Mind if we keep in touch? You seem interesting, and I wouldn't mind picking your brain about life on the other side of the law." Dylan smiled.

She hesitated for only a second before handing over her phone.

"Why not? Just don't try to get me in trouble, Morningstar."

"No promises." He winked, saving his number in her phone.

As she walked away, Dylan pocketed his own phone, satisfied. Step one, complete.

But he wasn't alone.

Across the street, standing near the dim glow of a streetlamp, Father Linus watched in silence. His expression unreadable, his sharp eyes fixed on Dylan.

He had seen it all—the "coincidental" meeting, the effortless charm, the way Vasquez's demeanor changed within moments.

Linus didn't believe in coincidences.

While he didn't feel any trace of demonic presence from Dylan, Linus noticed his spiritual presence strengthen for a moment. Even if this lawyer wasn't the person he was looking for, he was into something supernatural.

As Dylan disappeared into the night, Linus reached into his coat, pulling out his phone. He pressed a number and waited.

A voice answered on the other end.

"It's as expected," Linus murmured. "He's not normal."

A pause. Then a low voice replied,

"Continue watching."

Linus ended the call and slipped his phone away, his gaze never leaving the spot where Dylan had stood.