Alastor stared at the dimly lit bar, the type of place where the elite and the dangerous rubbed shoulders without a second thought. The neon lights outside flickered against the sleek, dark glass, casting long shadows that merged with the patrons inside, giving the entire place a sense of detached, artificial elegance. It was here, in this blend of wealth and violence, that he knew he would find her.

Nyx Ashford.

Her name was whispered in circles that most people would never dare enter, her reputation built on a trail of bodies that had never been traced back to her. She was a master of poisons—silent, deadly, and untouchable. Rumors swirled around her, claiming she was one of the few with ties to the Assassination Pyramid, though no one had ever confirmed it. If anyone could provide him with the edge he needed, it was her.

But Nyx wasn’t someone you just walked up to. She was cautious, calculating, and always two steps ahead. If he wanted her, he would need to play this carefully.

Alastor took a deep breath, pushing through the crowd toward a back booth, where she was waiting. She had agreed to meet him, though he was certain she had her own reasons for doing so. Information about Nyx was hard to come by, but Alastor had spent weeks tracking her movements, piecing together what little he could. Every step had led him to this moment.

As he approached, he saw her, bathed in the soft glow of the neon lights—a vision of dark elegance. Nyx sat reclined, her eyes scanning the room like a predator bored by its prey. Her long, black hair fell in waves down her shoulders, and her dark clothing blended effortlessly into the shadows around her. Her hands cradled a glass of red wine, but her eyes, sharp and unblinking, told Alastor that she didn’t miss a single detail.

She had noticed him the moment he entered. Of course she had.

"Alastor Creed," Nyx’s voice was smooth, laced with amusement as her eyes flicked up to meet his. "The man who dies but doesn’t stay dead. Interesting trick."

Alastor slid into the booth across from her, keeping his composure. "I’ve heard you’re familiar with tricks like that. The kind only a few ever learn."

Her lips curled into a knowing smile, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. "Rumors. People love to talk when they don’t understand."

"But you understand, don’t you?" Alastor pressed, leaning in slightly. "The Pyramid. The hieroglyphs. You know what’s really going on beneath the surface."

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Nyx studied him for a moment, her smile never faltering, though her eyes sharpened with interest. "I might know a few things. But people like you don’t survive long digging into the Pyramid’s secrets. What makes you think you’ll be any different?"

"I’ve died twice already," he said, his voice low but confident. "I think that makes me different enough."

For the first time, Nyx’s smile faded, replaced by something colder, more calculating. She leaned forward, setting her glass down on the table between them, her eyes narrowing. "You’ve been touched by the Pyramid, then. Their symbols, their trials—you're part of it now. Whether you want to be or not."

Alastor nodded slowly. "That’s why I need you. You’ve been close to them. You know the way they operate."

Nyx chuckled softly, leaning back once again, her smile returning. "And why should I help you? What do I get out of this little partnership?"

Alastor had expected the question. He knew Nyx wasn’t motivated by money—she had more than enough of that. No, someone like her craved something deeper. Power. Influence. The thrill of controlling life and death with a flick of her wrist.

"I can help you climb higher than you’ve ever been," Alastor said, choosing his words carefully. "The Pyramid holds the key to immortality, true power, and you and I both know that they’re keeping it for themselves. But together, we can unlock those secrets. We can take what they’re hoarding for ourselves."

Nyx’s eyes gleamed at the word immortality. She tilted her head slightly, considering his offer. "You think you can outsmart the Pyramid? That’s bold. Even for someone like you."

"I don’t need to outsmart them," Alastor replied, his voice calm. "I just need to survive long enough to learn their game. And you, with your expertise, can make sure I do."

For a long moment, Nyx said nothing. She studied him with the cold, calculating gaze of a predator assessing whether or not its prey was worth the effort. Alastor held his ground, not breaking eye contact, knowing that showing any weakness now would doom him. He had to make her believe he was worth the risk.

Finally, she leaned forward, her smile returning—this time more dangerous than before. "You really think you’re going to unlock their secrets? You think you’re the first to try?"

"I’m the first to survive this long," Alastor said, his voice unshakable. "And with your help, I can go even further."

Nyx swirled the wine in her glass, her gaze never leaving his. After what felt like an eternity, she gave a soft, almost imperceptible nod. "You intrigue me, Alastor. But this isn’t going to be a partnership where we play nice. If you want my help, you’re going to have to prove you’re worth the trouble."

Alastor smirked. "I thought I already did."

Nyx chuckled again, a low, dangerous sound. "You’ve survived, yes. But the Pyramid won’t stop. They’ll keep coming for you. And if you want to climb higher, you’ll need a body count. The Pyramid respects one thing above all else—death."

Alastor’s eyes flicked to the bracelet on his wrist, the hieroglyphs burning faintly against his skin. He knew she was right. The Pyramid’s path was paved in blood, and if he was going to survive—and win—he would need more than just knowledge. He would need to kill, and he would need her to guide him.

"You want to climb the Pyramid?" Nyx asked, her smile laced with venom. "Then let’s start with a body count."