Chapter 2
1008 Words
Scarlett stood in front of the studio’s floor-length mirror the next morning, adjusting the waistband of her black leggings and rolling her shoulders. The sunrise filtered in through the glass windows, casting a pale gold hue across the wooden floor. It was early—just past 6 a.m.—and the gym hadn’t opened to the public yet. Her favorite time of day. Quiet. Clean. Honest.
She brushed a wisp of chestnut-brown hair from her cheek and studied her reflection. Her skin was soft and pale with a natural blush high on her cheeks, the kind of complexion that tanned delicately in the summer and freckled in the winter. Her features weren’t flashy, but they were memorable—wide, expressive green eyes framed by thick lashes; full lips often curled in amusement or irritation, depending on the hour. Her body was sculpted from years of discipline: long legs, strong arms, a core built from endless reps and sweat—but there was softness in her too, in the slope of her collarbone, the gentle roundness of her face, and the way she moved, deliberate but light.
She didn’t always feel pretty, but this morning she looked it—and for reasons she didn’t want to admit, that mattered.
“Thinking of someone?”
Scarlett nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned sharply to find Lizzie leaning against the doorway, clutching two coffees.
“Jesus, Liz, scare someone else next time.”
Lizzie smirked, entering the room. Blonde and effortlessly stylish even at dawn, she handed over a cup. “You didn’t answer my text last night. Weird client got you rattled?”
Scarlett took a sip, grateful for the distraction. “Not rattled. Just… curious.”
“Curious how?”
She hesitated. “He’s just not like the others. Quiet. Intense. And way too good for someone claiming to be out of practice.”
Lizzie arched an eyebrow. “Are we talking professional curiosity or… other curiosity?”
Scarlett shot her a glare. “He’s a client.”
Lizzie held up her hands in mock innocence. “Uh-huh. But he’s hot, right?”
Scarlett looked down into her coffee. “...Objectively.”
Lizzie grinned. “Right.”
They changed the subject, chatting about weekend plans and a group class they were organizing, but Scarlett’s mind kept drifting. Damon. There was something in the way he’d looked at her—like he saw more than skin and bone. Like he knew her, in some impossible, ancestral way. It made her want to run and stay still at the same time.
Later that morning, just before her 10:15, she stood by the turf again, stretching, nerves humming. Damon arrived like he had the day before—silent, steady, and just slightly too large for the room he was in. He wore a fitted grey hoodie today, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that could probably bend metal. He nodded once at her, his eyes stormy as ever.
“You came back,” she said, aiming for casual.
“I said I would.”
“People say a lot of things.”
Damon didn’t smile, but his gaze softened slightly. “I’m not most people.”
Scarlett handed him a resistance band. “Prove it.”
They worked in rhythm—he followed every instruction without complaint, pushing harder than she expected. She noticed the way he never used the mirrors. Like he didn’t trust what he’d see. Or didn’t want to.
As they finished a round of sled pushes, she tossed him a water bottle. “So. Where are you from?”
“Up north.”
“Canada north or mysterious-mountain-man north?”
“Closer to the second.”
Scarlett laughed. “You don’t give much away, do you?”
“I give what matters.”
She tried not to let his words land too heavily, but her pulse betrayed her. Still, she kept her tone light. “Okay, mysterious. Tell me this—what made you pick this gym?”
Damon’s eyes flickered. “It’s not the gym. It’s the trainer.”
Scarlett blinked. “You mean… me?”
He didn’t answer. Just sipped his water and looked at her like he could hear every thought she hadn’t spoken.
Before she could press further, the back door slammed open. Lizzie poked her head in, beaming. “Sorry to interrupt your... session, but we’re short one for the noon HIIT circuit. Scarlett, you in?”
Scarlett glanced at Damon. “You good to wrap up?”
He nodded once. “Go.”
She jogged off, and for a moment, he stood alone on the turf. His calm exterior faltered as he exhaled sharply, jaw tightening.
Behind him, in the reflection of the darkened studio windows, his outline flickered—just for a breath. His frame shifted larger, broader, a hint of something bestial flashing behind the glass. Not visible to human eyes. But present.
Watching.
Waiting.
---
Scarlett showered quickly after the class, the heat helping her unwind. But in the locker room mirror, she noticed something odd. A long, faint scratch curved along the back of her shoulder blade. Thin. Precise.
She didn’t remember getting it.
Maybe from a resistance band? Or the sled handle?
Still, it didn’t sting—it tingled, like something had just touched it, even as she stared. She shook herself and pulled on her hoodie. She wasn’t the type to scare easily. But today, something didn’t sit right.
---
That night, as she walked to her car under a velvet sky, Scarlett paused by a tree near the gym entrance. A deep gouge—long, vertical, fresh—marred the bark. Like claws. She knelt, brushing her fingers over it.
“Not a raccoon,” she murmured.
A low sound stirred behind her. She stood sharply, scanning the parking lot.
Empty.
But her instincts prickled again. The ones Damon told her to trust.
And up on the rooftop across the street, those amber eyes blinked once—watching her disappear into the dark.
- Writer
