The Noble Americans were one of the most dangerous gangs in West Antapolis. As Miranda had mentioned, they were fiercely racist, despising anyone who didn’t bleed red, white, and blue. They were notorious for kidnapping immigrants and throwing them into underground cage fights, profiting from illegal bets. They were beyond ruthless.

I turned away from Miranda and scratched the back of my head, my gaze falling to the ground. Normally, the gang wouldn't tolerate vampires or wraiths among their ranks. Their leader, Marshall Ulin, was known for his disdain toward anything non-human. But it seemed like they’d finally crossed a line, working with wraiths now.

“We’ll give you a moment,” Jane said, standing up. “Let’s talk outside, C.”

I nodded, following her out of the room. Once we were in the hallway, Jane let out a heavy sigh, putting a hand on her hip as her eyes searched mine. Things were definitely getting more complicated.

“Marshall Ulin would never let a wraith join his crew,” she muttered, half to herself.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “You think Miranda’s lying?”

Jane shrugged, rubbing her temple. “If she is, what’s her angle? What would she gain from that?”

“No idea,” I said under my breath. “We should talk to the victim’s landlord. He’s the one who reported her missing.”

“Alisha was reported missing?” she asked, her brows knitting together.

“Yeah, James told me earlier. He can give you the full rundown later. I’ll meet up with Leo and head over to the landlord’s place.”

“Alright. I’ll check the stadium with James, see if we missed anything,” Jane said, handing me my car keys.

“Hope there’s no scratch on it,” I said, taking the keys from her hand.

She rolled her eyes, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “You implying women can’t drive as well as men?”

“Nah, don’t put words in my mouth,” I replied.

I lingered for a moment before heading toward the elevator, deep in thought. Something about all this didn’t sit right with me. As I walked, I could feel the weight of the case pressing down. The Noble Americans were bad news, but if they’d started working with wraiths… we were in for a much bigger fight.

“Shit… I need to sleep…”

As the elevator doors slid open, I found Leo standing there, holding a box of cookies. His cheeks were puffed with a half-eaten one, and crumbs clung to his upper lip. He waved with his free hand, offering me the box with the other. I grabbed a cookie and stepped into the elevator beside him, hitting the button for the ground floor.

“We need to talk to the landlord,” I said, taking a bite. “He might have some info on the victim.”

“Mhm,” Leo mumbled through a mouthful of cookie. “Where’s the location?”

I glanced at my phone, reading James’s text. “Kiruha district. Molly Street, Love Apartments, tenth floor.”

Leo swallowed hard. “Got it. I’ll drive.”

“Hm,” I muttered, passing him the keys. “Any news on the autopsy?”

“Not yet,” he replied, brushing crumbs from his shirt. “Too soon for that.”

I exhaled in frustration. “Great.”

Leo shifted the box under his arm as we stepped out of the elevator. “You spoke with that woman, right? What’s her name again, Mirabelle?”

“Miranda,” I corrected him as we walked toward the exit. “She says the Noble Americans were behind the killing.”

He stopped mid-step. “Wait, what? But the victim was killed by a wraith, wasn’t she? There’s no way that Marshall guy would let a non-human into his gang. That’s just not his style.”

“I know, it doesn’t add up,” I said, rubbing my forehead as we pushed through the station doors. “First off, the victim was gunned down. Since when do wraiths use guns? They usually drain you dry without leaving a single drop behind.”

“Yeah, that’s not their MO at all,” Leo agreed, jogging down the steps after me.

“And then there’s the bite marks,” I continued, my voice lowering as we reached the car. “They’re weird. The fangs were too far apart. Plus, the wound was deep—like, unusually deep. Whatever bit me and the victim… those weren’t normal fangs.”

Leo unlocked the car and slid into the driver’s seat. “You think it was a royal vampire? That could explain the fang marks.”

I shook my head, climbing in beside him. “No, if it was, I’d have turned by now, wouldn’t I?”

Leo gripped the steering wheel, frowning. “Yeah… true. Damn. What a fucking mess, huh, C?”

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

I sighed, leaning back in the seat as the rain started to hit the windshield harder. “Yeah… a fucking mess.”

—

Leo knocked on the door and stepped back, his gaze scanning the dimly lit hallway. The corridor of the apartment building had an odd, sour odor that hung in the air—hard to tell if it was from something rotting or the mold crawling across the ceiling. By the elevator, a small cathouse sat, two kittens curled up inside, their food bowl still full.

The door cracked open, just enough for a pair of eyes to peek through the darkness. The man behind it studied us, his movements twitchy, like he was bracing for something.

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice flat but guarded.

“Police,” Leo said, standing his ground. “We need to ask you a few questions about—”

“Which division?” The man cut in, his suspicion clear.

“The Division of Preternatural Affairs,” Leo replied calmly, referring to the unit that handled cases involving wraiths and vampires.

“Shit,” the landlord muttered, swinging the door open fully now. “So it’s true. She was killed by a wraith, huh? You got IDs? Can’t be too careful these days—too many crooks playing cop.”

Leo glanced over at me. “C.”

With a slight grunt, I pulled out my wallet, flashing my badge briefly before tucking it back. “Satisfied?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the man said, nodding as he stepped aside to let us in. “Come in. It’s cold out there. And take your damn shoes off.”

Leo and I exchanged a quick look, but neither of us said a word. We slipped off our shoes and followed him inside, the door clicking shut behind us.

The hallway we stepped into was narrow, with faded wallpaper peeling at the edges. A small shelf by the wall was cluttered with old receipts, keys, and loose change, while a crooked mirror hung above it, its glass fogged with dust.

The landlord led us through the hall and into a cramped kitchen. It smelled faintly of stale tea and fried food, with a small table pressed against the wall and mismatched chairs scattered around it. A kettle whistled softly on the stove.

“Have a seat,” the man gestured toward the table. “Tea?”

Leo shook his head, brushing off the offer. “No thanks, we won’t be long.”

I stayed quiet, taking a seat next to Leo, letting him lead the conversation. I had only been in the force for six months and still felt like the rookie on most days. No point in jumping the gun and screwing things up. I'd watch and learn—for now.

“So…” the landlord began, leaning against the counter. “Ask away. I’ll try to help you as much as I can.”

Leo gave a small nod, his tone firm. “You were Alisha’s landlord, right? What kind of person was she?”

“She was the sweetest,” the landlord replied, fidgeting a little. “Always paid her rent on time, never caused trouble.”

Leo narrowed his gaze, not letting up. “But she was an illegal immigrant. Renting to someone without proper documentation is against the law. You were aware of that, right?”

The landlord’s face flushed, and he scratched at his neck. “I… I didn’t know she was illegal, I swear. She might’ve faked her papers or something.”

Leo raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Right. But you reported her missing a few days before the murder, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” the landlord nodded quickly, shifting uncomfortably. “She’d been gone for a bit, and usually she let me know if she’d be away. I thought something was wrong.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“I last saw her two days ago. On the second day, I reported her missing. Friday it was. And… the day after, she was murdered.”

Leo leaned forward slightly. “Did she mention feeling unsafe? Was she afraid of anyone or something specific?”

The landlord hesitated, his eyes darting from side to side. “Not really. I mean, she was a bit more on edge the last few times I saw her. But she never said anything about being followed or threatened.”

“Okay,” Leo said, his tone serious. “What about her friend, Miranda? They were close, right?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen Miranda around. They were friends,” the landlord answered, his brow furrowed. “But I didn’t see them together often. Maybe once or twice a week.”

Leo crossed his arms. “Did Miranda seem off in any way? Acting strange, maybe?”

The landlord shrugged. “Not really. She’s quiet. Never talked much. But… I did notice she came by the night before Alisha went missing. They left together, late.”

My ears perked up, and Leo gave me a glance before continuing. “The night she disappeared? You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” The landlord scratched his head. “I didn’t think much of it at the time. I figured they were just going out, but now…”

Leo’s voice was calm but probing. “Did you notice anything different about how they were acting? Any tension between them?”

The landlord frowned, thinking. “No, not really.”

Leo nodded slowly, then asked, “And did Alisha ever mention anything about Miranda? Maybe something about their friendship or if they were having issues?”

“Not that I know of,” the landlord said, but then hesitated. “But… Alisha did say something once about needing to ‘talk to Miranda’ about something serious. She never told me what it was about, though.”

Leo tapped his fingers on the table, exchanging a knowing look with me. “So, again, they left together the day Alisha disappeared?”

The landlord thought for a moment. “Yeah, they left together. Seemed in a good mood.”

Leo leaned back, sighing. “Thanks. One more thing—have you heard of anyone from the Noble Americans hanging around here?”

The landlord’s eyes widened slightly, and he paled. “Noble Americans? No, no way. They wouldn’t come around here. Why?”

“We have reason to believe they might be involved in this case,” Leo replied, his tone low. “If you hear anything or see anyone suspicious, you call us immediately. Understand?”

The landlord nodded quickly, swallowing hard. “Yeah, of course.”

Leo stood up, signaling the end of the questioning. “We’ll be in touch if we need anything else. You’ll be staying in the station for a while. It’d be dangerous for you to be alone.”

As we left the apartment, I could tell we were both thinking the same thing: Miranda’s story wasn’t adding up. Something was off, and it was only a matter of time before we uncovered the truth.

“Hello. James?” Leo said, answering the call as we waited for the elevator. “Uh-uh… yeah… wait—how? Three?”

I kept quiet and listened to him.

“Shit.” Leo said, looking at me. “The autopsy just came in… apparently, Alisha was already dead, like three days dead, before we found her in front of that stadium.”