The Devil’s Deal

The penthouse elevator ascended like a whisper, silent and smooth, and far too fast for Mia's comfort. Gilded mirrors reflected her wide eyes back at her, fractured into a thousand anxious versions of herself. Behind her stood Alexander Dusk, hands clasped behind his back, his presence impossibly still, like a painting that might leap from the canvas at any moment.

Mia tried not to fidget, but her fingers curled tightly around the strap of her bag. He hadn't returned her camera—only handed over the memory card as if it meant nothing. She had a dozen questions, all of them crowding for attention, but the silence between them was too heavy to break without being crushed beneath it.

"Where are we going?" she finally asked, her voice low.

Alexander didn't look at her. "Someplace... private."

The doors slid open with a soft chime. The contrast hit her immediately.

Nocturne had always been a city of shadows and spectacle, but this… this was something else.

The penthouse wasn't just luxurious—it was otherworldly.

A towering wall of glass framed the night skyline like a painting dipped in neon and stars. The city sprawled out below them, glowing, pulsing, alive. Black marble floors gleamed beneath her boots, reflecting soft gold light from a sprawling chandelier overhead that looked like frozen lightning. Artifacts lined the walls—some ancient, some modern, some clearly not of this world. She spotted a sword mounted beside a sleek digital sculpture that shifted form when she blinked.

Mia turned slowly, taking it all in. "You don't exactly scream 'low profile,' Mr. Dusk."

He smiled—barely. "Power thrives on contradiction."

"You're not denying anything?"

"Would it matter if I did?" he said, walking past her. "You've already decided what you believe."

"And what is that exactly?"

"That I'm a vampire." He said the word casually, as if commenting on the weather. "That I run the city from the shadows. That I kill to keep my secrets."

Mia hesitated. "You didn't kill me."

"Not yet," he said.

She flinched, but didn't look away.

He turned to her fully now, eyes narrowing. "Tell me, Mia—why are you really chasing this story? Truth? Fame? Or something else?"

Her jaw clenched. "A woman is missing. My source. Her name was Evelyn. She sent me here, and now she's gone. I think you know what happened to her."

Something flickered in his gaze—recognition. Then it was gone.

"She got too close," he said, voice devoid of apology. "No one is untouchable, not even her."

Mia's breath caught. "So you did kill her."

"I didn't say that."

"But you didn't stop it."

Silence hung between them like a blade.

Then, unexpectedly, Alexander crossed to the bar and poured two glasses of dark red liquid. He offered one to her. She stared at it.

"You're joking."

"It's wine," he said with a hint of amusement. "For now."

She took it—more out of stubbornness than thirst—and sipped. Rich, smooth, with a bite.

"I don't kill indiscriminately, Mia," he said, watching her over the rim of his glass. "There are rules. Even for monsters."

"That's what they always say. Until someone ends up dead."

He set his glass down. "You want to know what happened to Evelyn? You want the truth behind Dusk Industries, behind the syndicates and the vanishing people and the power plays in Nocturne? Then I'll give it to you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Just like that?"

"There's a price," he said, stepping closer. "Everything has a price."

Mia's pulse quickened. "What kind of price?"

"I want you to work for me."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You're a journalist. Sharp, stubborn. Clever. I need someone who sees through masks, who isn't afraid to get her hands dirty. You want answers—I have them. But I don't give away my secrets for free."

Mia crossed her arms. "And what do I do for you? Write your memoirs? Make you look like a misunderstood antihero?"

"No," he said, the shadows clinging to him like a second skin. "You expose a rival—another ancient who threatens everything I've built. You uncover his secrets for me."

"And in return?"

"You get the truth. About Evelyn. About me. About what lurks beneath Nocturne's glittering mask."

Mia didn't answer right away. Her head spun. Every instinct screamed to run. But this was the story. The story. The kind that didn't just change careers—it rewrote lives.

She looked into his eyes again, saw something ancient and dangerous and deeply alone. And yet, there was a spark—something human, something broken.

"I'm not your pawn," she said.

"Good," Alexander said with a smile that revealed a hint of fang. "Because pawns are boring."

Outside, thunder rolled across the city, and the lights of Nocturne blinked in rhythm with the storm.

And somewhere in that storm, a deal was struck.