Don't I Know you?

The air was crisp and chilled, smelling like salt water and it was a busy city though the ocean was over 100 miles away. It had been one of those nights at Neon Pie—where the diner was packed, the coffee was endless, and the pie slices grew bigger with every order. Nyx had just finished her shift as the night shift tattoo artist at her shop, and the smell of warm cherry pie still lingered in the air. It was her guilty pleasure, her routine after a long day. Neon Pie had the best pie in the city—and the only place open after midnight that didn't judge her for getting an entire cherry pie to herself. The pie was warm, comforting, and a small slice of happiness in her crazy life. The diner had quickly become her haven, where no one asked questions about her mysterious tattoos or the strange aura that seemed to follow her around. Just pie, coffee, and the sound of clinking silverware.

As Nyx stepped out of the neon-lit glow of the diner into the cool night air, the smell of sugar and cinnamon clung to her. She could already tell that the usual hum of the city was quieter than it should be. Maybe it was just the exhaustion talking, or maybe her instincts, honed over years of self-preservation, were kicking in. She felt the prickling sensation that something was off. Her senses were sharper than most—being a tattoo artist meant she had a heightened awareness of the world around her, a bit of intuition that told her when things didn't quite feel right. Either way, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her.

She adjusted the strap of her leather bag, the box of freshly baked cherry pie in her other hand, and started walking. The streets were quieter now—most of the late-night crowds had dissipated, leaving the city's underbelly to lurk in the shadows.

From an alley just ahead of her, a voice calls out, "Hey, lady. Got a minute?"

She pauses, her heart beating a little faster. A figure stepped out from the shadows. He was tall, wearing a hoodie that looked a little too oversized and dingy.

She tightened her grip on her bag, the pie box clutched protectively in the other hand, and began to make a beeline to her left when another figure appeared.

This other guy was shorter but stockier, with a glint in his eyes that screamed trouble. Hey, sweetheart," the shorter one called, his voice rough and demanding. "You got something for us, yeah?"

Nyx wasn't the type to be easily intimidated. But something about the darkened street corner ahead made her pulse quicken.

And then, just like that, the world seemed to pause.

The two figures emerged. They weren't especially big or imposing, but the way they moved—quick, purposeful—was enough to make Nyx's heart race. She tried to ignore them and keep her head down, but they were already too close.

The short one cracked his knuckles, giving her a grin that made Nyx's skin crawl. She'd been through worse, of course. Being a tattoo artist and being... different made her a prime target for trouble. But tonight, her usual defiance wasn't enough.

Without thinking, Nyx took a step back, trying to keep a distance between her and the two strangers. "No, thanks," she said, her voice steady, but the edge of fear creeping in. "I don't have anything for you."

"Listen," the taller one said, stepping forward with a grin that made Nyx's skin crawl, "we just need a little bit of cash. A little offering, you know? You can spare it, right?"

Nyx, already running on fumes after a long day, didn't have the energy for this. Not today. Not tonight.

"No, thanks," she said flatly, shifting her bag to her other hand. "You know, there are plenty of places around here that will let you steal all the change you want, but it's not gonna be from me."

The taller guy's grin faltered, but the shorter one just laughed. "Aw, you're a tough girl, huh? That's cute. Let's see how tough you are when you're missing something important, huh?"

Before Nyx could react, he yanked the strap from her shoulder, pulling her into the alley.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she tightened her grip on the box of pie—of all things, this was what she had left to protect. But in the grand scheme of things, a box of pie wasn't going to save her from being robbed in a dark alley.

"Give it to me, now," the taller one growled, yanking at her bag again. Nyx staggered forward almost falling to her knees, nearly releasing her bag. She used that opportunity to reach into her boot. Nothing was there.

Fuck! she was in such a rush earlier that she forgot to put her blades in her boot. There goes that safety net.

"Hey!" a voice rang out from the darkness, low and gravelly, but unmistakable in its authority.

Nyx froze; the voice was somehow familiar but also strange. The muggers didn't stop.

"Who the hell are you?" the shorter one snarled, spinning around to face the newcomer.

Zane stepped forward from the shadows, his tall frame cutting an imposing figure in the dim light. He wasn't wearing a cape or a suit—he didn't need to. The way his presence commanded attention was enough.

The two muggers froze. Nyx turned, half-expecting the voice to belong to some well-meaning pedestrian who would offer words of encouragement but be completely useless in the face of real danger. Instead, she saw him—him—him-him-the guy she'd met at a bar a few weeks ago. Zane.

He was leaning casually against the brick wall of a nearby building, his posture so relaxed it was almost unnerving. His eyes, glowing faintly red in the night, scanned the two muggers like they were the least interesting thing in the world.

"You don't want to mess with her," Zane said, his voice cool and calm, the kind of voice that made you second-guess your life choices. His eyes—those glowing red eyes—flashed under the streetlight, and for a moment, it was like the world had gone silent.

The muggers took a collective step back, their bravado faltering as they realized they might've bitten off more than they could chew.

"And why's that?" the taller one scoffed, trying to mask the fear creeping into his voice

One of the muggers, who'd now visibly noticed the vampire aura Zane was giving off, straightened up. "Yeah, uh… this your girlfriend or something?"

Zane took a slow step forward, his lips curving into a smile that was a little too sharp. "Oh, no. While she is beautiful, I'm just here to make sure no one gets hurt. That includes her," he said, nodding toward Nyx. "So if you want to walk away with all your limbs intact, I'd suggest you do so. Now."

The muggers exchanged glances. It wasn't the first time someone had tried to intimidate them, but it was certainly the first time they'd been on the receiving end of an unspoken threat from someone who looked like they could rip them apart with a single swipe of their hand. "Or what?" challenges the taller mugger.

Zane's lips curled into a slow smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Let's just say... I've had a lot of practice at dealing with idiots who think they're invincible. It's a bad habit."

In one fluid motion, Zane closed the distance between them, and before the muggers could react, he grabbed the taller one by the collar and lifted him off the ground like he weighed nothing. The shorter guy's eyes widened in panic, but Zane's attention never wavered.

"You know," Zane said conversationally, "I'm not usually this friendly, but I'm feeling generous tonight." He dropped the tall guy back onto his feet with a forceful thud, sending him stumbling backward. "So, here's the deal: You leave her alone, and I won't have to make you regret ever stepping into this alley."

"Yeah, screw this," the tall one muttered, climbing to his feet and shoving his buddy in the direction of the street. "Let's go before we get shredded."

Nyx stood there, blinking in disbelief, the pie still clutched in her hand. Her heart was pounding, her adrenaline still rushing through her veins. She'd been in sticky situations before, but this? This was different.

"Thanks," she managed, her voice shaky. "I… I didn't expect that."

Zane turned toward her, his gaze softer now, though still edged with that quiet confidence. "No problem," he said with a shrug, his voice casual. "Can't let you get mugged over a pie. That'd be a crime."

Nyx couldn't help but laugh—a sharp, incredulous sound that felt good after the tension of the night. "Yeah, that would be a tragic loss." She looked down at the box in her hands. "Although I'm not sure what's more disappointing: losing my bag or losing my pie."

Zane smiled, and for a moment, it felt like the whole city had softened around them. "Well, we can't have that," he said, glancing at the box with a mock-somber expression. "You should keep the pie. Maybe leave the bags to the thieves next time."

Nyx raised an eyebrow, slightly annoyed. "Oh, is that your advice? Stay away from the pie thieves, but not the actual people who try to steal from me?"

His dark eyes twinkled, mischievous in a way that only made him more intriguing. "You okay?"

Nyx raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, thanks for that. Not exactly how I planned on getting mugged, but you know… I've had worse."

Zane chuckled, the sound low and almost melodic. "It's nothing. Just another Tuesday for me."

Nyx, trying to shake off the weird energy that had just surged between them, looked down at her bag and then back up at Zane. "Are you always lurking around in dark alleys, or is it just a 'saving the day' kind of mood for you?"

Zane leaned in slightly, his voice low enough to make her heart skip a beat. "Well, to be fair, I was just trying to get a drink at my bar. But when I saw you about to get robbed, I figured it was fate's way of letting me rescue you." He gave her a teasing wink. "I don't always get the chance to play hero."

Nyx gave him a skeptical look, her lips quirking in a half-smile. "Right, of course. You're just the local bartending superhero. Do you come with a cape?"

Zane laughed, the sound warm and easy. "No cape. That's too dramatic even for me. But I do have a bar if you ever feel like grabbing a drink. I promise I'm not as annoying as I look."

Nyx paused, considering him. She could think of worse ways to end the night, and she did owe him for saving her from getting robbed in the first place. "I don't know," she said, looking him up and down. "I'm not into going places with strange men in the middle of the night, I also don't drink."

Zane raised an eyebrow. "That's okay. You can call me Zane, and I'll make sure your drink's on the house. Non-alcoholic with pomegranate syrup, right?"

"But I'm sure I could help you with the rest. Why don't you come by? I run a bar around here. It's a little more my speed than the streets."

Nyx paused, considering. There was something about Zane that made her feel... curious. He was more than just some guy who happened to be in the right place at the right time. There was an air about him—a mystery, something she couldn't quite place.

She glanced at the empty alley, then back at him. "You know what? I think I might just take you up on that drink. But I owe you one—next time, we're getting Apple pie."

Zane gave her a knowing smile, his eyes glinting. "Deal. Blood, bourbon, and pie. It's a winning combination."

As he led her through the quiet streets to his bar, Blood and Bourbon, Nyx couldn't help but wonder what kind of trouble—and possibly adventure—she had just walked into. And whether she was ready to face whatever secrets this strange, dark man was keeping.

But for now? A drink sounded pretty damn good.