TEETH IN THE SHADOWS

Chapter Four – Teeth in the Shadows

The air thickened, sharp with the metallic tang of rain-soaked asphalt. Shapes emerged from the darkness, slipping from one shadow to another like predators circling their prey. Elena’s breath caught as her eyes adjusted—four… no, five figures, their faces blurred by the shifting gloom.

Her instincts screamed not human.

The man in front of her shifted his stance, relaxed yet lethal. One hand remained at his side, but the other stretched slightly backward, brushing against her hip as if to remind her: Stay here. Don’t move.

The contact was fleeting, yet the heat of it anchored her in place.

“Who are they?” she whispered.

He didn’t turn, didn’t take his eyes off the advancing figures. “Hunters,” he murmured. “But not for me. For you.”

Her blood iced. “For… me?”

His voice dropped lower, rougher, so intimate it felt like he spoke the words directly into her veins. “They smell what you are. Even if you don’t know it yet.”

Before she could demand what that meant, the first shadow lunged.

He moved like water, like lightning—fluid and brutal all at once. A sharp crack echoed through the alley as he slammed the attacker into the brick wall, shadows writhing unnaturally around his arm like living weapons. Elena stumbled back, heart hammering, watching him fight not with fists alone but with something far older, far darker.

Another came at him from the left. This time, he didn’t even strike. The shadows bent to his will, snapping outward in tendrils that struck like whips, throwing the creature to the ground.

The sound it made wasn’t human.

Elena pressed a hand to her mouth, the scream caught in her throat.

He was terrifying. Unnatural. Absolutely lethal.

And yet she couldn’t look away.

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Within moments, the alley fell silent. The shadows retreated back to their corners, leaving only the echo of rain and the pounding of Elena’s heartbeat. The creatures were gone, dissipated into the night like smoke.

Slowly, he turned back toward her.

She should have run. She should have screamed. But when his silver eyes met hers, the only thing she felt was the magnetic pull of something she didn’t understand. Something that both frightened and thrilled her.

“Are you hurt?” he asked. His voice was rough, breath uneven from the fight.

She shook her head, though she wasn’t sure if her trembling counted as an injury.

His gaze raked over her, sharp and lingering, like he was checking every inch for damage. When his hand reached out, brushing wet strands of hair from her face, her knees nearly buckled.

“You shouldn’t have seen that,” he said, softer now, almost regretful. His thumb lingered at her jawline, a whisper of contact that made her shiver in ways that had nothing to do with the rain.

“I didn’t ask to,” she managed, though her voice was barely steady.

“No,” he murmured, eyes darkening again, “but now you can’t go back.”

The words settled between them, heavy and inevitable.

And though fear coiled in her stomach, there was another feeling—hot, undeniable—that curled alongside it.

Because the truth was, she didn’t want to go back.

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