Beautiful Monster

1 - The Shadow

      The distant echo of footsteps catches my attention.

      I remain motionless in the shadows, watching as Valentina emerges from the Fine Arts building. Her silver-blonde hair shimmers under the street lights, a beacon in the darkness that makes my job both easier and infinitely more difficult. She's been in the studio late again, despite Romano's explicit instructions about night classes.

      But that's Valentina—she's never been one to follow rules.

      I shift slightly, adjusting my position on the rooftop. The concrete edge digs into my forearms as I track her movement. Even from this distance, I can see the smudges of paint on her hands, the way her oversized sweater slips off one shoulder. She's wearing those ripped jeans again, the ones that make Romano's eyes twitch whenever she shows up to family dinner in them.

      The campus is nearly empty at this hour. A few students hurry between buildings, heads down, eager to get home. A security guard makes his scheduled rounds, a flashlight beam sweeping uselessly across the lawn.

      None of them notice me.

      Just like none of them notice the other shadow that detaches itself from the economics building as Valentina passes.

      My muscles tense.

      The man keeps his distance, but his intent is clear in every measured step. He's done this before. Knows how to follow without being obvious. But he's picked the wrong target tonight.

      I begin my walk along the rooftops, silent as the death I deal in Romano's name. In the five years I've guarded his daughter, I've learned every high point in this city. Every shadow. Every blind spot the security cameras can't reach.

      A cool breeze carries the scent of her perfume up to my position—jasmine and something darker, richer. The same scent that lingers in the halls of the Romano mansion after she visits her father. The scent that makes my teeth clench every time I catch it on someone else's clothes.

      Three weeks ago, I broke a man's fingers for standing too close to her at a family function, breathing her in like he had the right.

      Romano called it excessive.

      I called it mercy.

      The stranger maintains his distance for two blocks. Professional. Patient.

      My patience, however, is running thin.

      From my vantage point, I can see the subtle tells in his movement. The way his shoulders set. The calculated rhythm of his steps. He's military-trained—special forces, maybe, or private security. The knowledge burns in my gut. This isn't some opportunistic predator.

      Someone sent him.

      Someone who's about to learn exactly why the Romano family keeps me around.