Crimson Echoes

Crimson Echoes

Azael Thorne

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In the shadows of the modern world, a dangerous game of betrayal, revenge, and secrets unfolds. Darian Blackwood, a billionaire with multiple identities, harbors a dark secret: he is a vampire, cursed to live in the shadows for centuries. Haunted by past sins and driven by a need for vengeance, Darian will stop at nothing to reclaim what was stolen from him. When he crosses paths with Serah, a woman unknowingly tied to his past, their worlds collide in a whirlwind of danger, passion, and discovery. As the echoes of betrayal reverberate through their lives, both must navigate the thin line between redemption and damnation. In a world where the past never truly dies and darkness lurks at every corner, will Darian's thirst for revenge consume him, or will love be his salvation? Crimson Echoes is a tale of power, passion, and the shadows that linger long after the storm has passed.

Chapter 1 The Crimson Invitation

Rain spilled from the sky like it was trying to wash away the sins of the city. Flashing red and blue lights bathed the pavement in an ominous glow as Detective Serah Blake stepped beneath the yellow tape and stared up at the towering penthouse before her.

"Third floor. Corner suite," Officer Langford said, meeting her at the entrance. His voice was low, steady - but his eyes betrayed something deeper. "You're going to want to see this one yourself."

Serah didn't respond. She adjusted her coat, her fingers brushing against the cold metal of her badge before stepping into the elevator. The place reeked of wealth - glass floors, golden elevators, and a scent too pristine to be anything natural.

When the doors opened, the air changed. Thick. Still. Like a cathedral before a storm.

She entered the suite.

The body lay on pristine marble. Pale. Cold. Lifeless. But it wasn't the dead man that made her stomach turn. It was the look of ecstasy frozen on his face - like death had been a lover who kissed too hard.

And then there were the bite marks.

Not jagged like a dog. Clean. Precise. Two puncture wounds, right on the carotid.

"No blood," Serah muttered, crouching beside the corpse.

"Not a drop anywhere," Langford confirmed. "EMTs say he was drained."

Serah stood, her eyes scanning the penthouse. Sleek furniture. A sculpture of a phoenix in mid-rise. And by the floor-to-ceiling window stood a man.

Tall. Impeccably dressed. Hands clasped behind his back like he owned the skyline.

"Detective Blake," he said without turning. "I was wondering when you'd arrive."

She approached cautiously. "You the one who called it in?"

He turned.

Darian Cross.

The billionaire.

The face from a hundred magazine covers. The name attached to skyscrapers and tech empires. But in person, he was... something else. Eyes too sharp. Presence too loud, even in silence.

"It's my building. My responsibility," he said. "I found him like this. Called it in immediately."

Serah narrowed her eyes. "You recognize him?"

A pause. "He was a guest at my private auction last night. I don't recall inviting him."

"And yet he was here."

Another pause. Then a smirk that didn't reach his eyes. "Isn't that the nature of mystery?"

She hated riddles. And men who talked like riddles.

"We'll need access to your guest list. Security footage."

"Already sent to your department," he replied smoothly. "I'm fully cooperative, Detective."

She didn't believe him. And yet, something about him was... familiar. Like a song she'd heard in a dream.

As she left the penthouse, rain tapping against the windows like fingers on glass, she couldn't shake the feeling that this case had just opened a door.

And behind it, something was waiting. Watching.

Smiling.

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