Marked by Monsters

The first rule of night work in Balete City: if you saw a girl in a white hoodie sitting under a streetlight at 3am, you kept walking. Dax Calder didn’t. Because bleeding in an alley was bad for business, and the girl was sitting between him and the only open entrance to the Balete Night Market. He owned the block. Twelve buildings. Three warehouses. Two parking lots that were technically not zoned for parking. The market sat on land his company, Calder Properties, bought ten years ago for what people now called “nothing.” On paper, Dax Calder was a landlord who never gave interviews. On paper, he paid taxes and filed permits and showed up to city council meetings twice a year in a suit that cost more than most cars. In reality, he handled his own problems. Tonight he’d been slow. The man’s name was Viktor. Ex-military. Owed money to three people. He decided “rent” meant he could take from Ate Lorna’s cigarette stall. Two packs, then four, then the whole box. Dax told him no. Viktor pulled a knife. Dax handled it. Now Viktor was gone. And there was a thin line across Dax’s ribs that wouldn’t stop seeping through his shirt. Which was why he was standing under a streetlight at 3:14am, staring at a girl instead of going to his penthouse, instead of calling his doctor, instead of doing any of the twelve things that made sense. She couldn’t be older than 19. White hoodie, jeans, hair in a messy bun that was coming loose. She wasn’t shivering, even though the air had that wet-cold that cut through jackets. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t on her phone. She was staring up at the moon like it had personally wronged her. “You lost?” Dax asked. His voice came out low. It always did after a fight. The girl didn’t look at him right away. When she did, her eyes were gray. Flat. Tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep. “No,” she said. “You live around here?” “Shiloh Beltran.” That was all she gave him. Something in Dax went still. Instinct. Wrong. Don’t get close.He ignored it. He’d been ignoring it for years. “Mr. Calder?” Kiko from the market jogged up, out of breath. He was 22 and handled the early produce deliveries. “Sir, you’re bleeding.” Dax didn’t answer. He was watching Shiloh. She’d seen the blood on his shirt. Dark against black fabric. She didn’t react. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t ask. She just kept looking at the moon, then back at him, then at the market entrance behind him. “Come on,” Dax said. “The market’s open.” She stood. No questions. No thanks. She fell into step beside him like she’d been expecting it, hands in her hoodie pockets, shoulders relaxed. Like walking with a bleeding stranger at 3am was normal. They walked. Dax in a coat that hid the blood. Shiloh in a hoodie that was too thin for the weather. Kiko followed a few steps back, pretending to check his phone, pretending not to watch either of them. The streetlights buzzed. A stray dog crossed the road and didn’t bark at either of them. The city was quiet in that way it only got between 3 and 4am. Like it was holding its breath. “Your name again?” Dax asked, just to hear her talk. “Shiloh.” “Do you want me to call someone?” “No.” “Do you need—” “I’m fine,” she cut him off. Not rude. Just final. Dax let it drop. The Balete Night Market was alive. String lights crisscrossed overhead. Coffee steamed from three different stalls. Rain dripped off tarps. Vendors were setting up, laughing, arguing about prices. It was Dax’s property on paper. In practice, it belonged to the people who worked it. They paid him rent, and he made sure no one else bothered them. That was the deal. Behind the coffee counter, Lena was already pouring. She looked up when she saw them. Saw Dax. Saw the blood. Saw Shiloh. Her hand didn’t shake. She’d worked with Dax for eight years. She’d seen worse. She set out four cups. One for Dax. One for Shiloh. One for herself. One empty. “Mr. Calder,” Lena said. “You look like hell.” “I’ve looked worse,” Dax said. He sat. The cut pulled. He didn’t react. That was part of it. Shiloh sat too. Straight back. Hands in her lap. She didn’t touch the water Lena pushed toward her. She didn’t look at the pastries. She just sat, eyes moving. Counting exits. Counting people. Lena studied her. “You’re new.” Shiloh gave a small nod. Nothing else. “You hungry?” Lena tried. Shiloh shook her head once. “Tired?” A pause. “No.” Lena looked at Dax. Dax kept his face neutral. “Kiko,” Lena said without looking away from Shiloh. “Go get the first aid kit. And tell Ate Lorna we’ll need extra lights on aisle 3.” Kiko left fast. Lena leaned on the counter. “I’m Lena. This is Dax. You can stay until it gets light.” Shiloh nodded. “Okay.” That was it. No story. No explanation. Dax drank his coffee black. It burned. He welcomed it. The pain in his ribs was dull now, but he could still feel it with every breath. Across from him, Shiloh sat perfectly still. She wasn’t cold. She wasn’t rubbing her arms. She wasn’t checking her phone. Her eyes kept drifting up. To the string lights. To the sky visible between the tarps. To anything but them. Like she was counting seconds until she could leave. “You go to school?” Lena asked. “No.” “Work?” “No.” Lena didn’t push. She just refilled Dax’s cup. The market got louder. 3:30am. The early crowd. Night shift nurses. Taxi drivers. Students pulling all-nighters. They all knew Dax. They all nodded, but none of them asked about the blood. That was also part of the deal. Shiloh watched them. Not with curiosity. With assessment. “You’re staring,” Dax said quietly. Shiloh looked at him. “You’re bleeding.” “It’s fine.” “It’s not.” Dax almost smiled. “You’re not gonna offer a bandage?” “No.” “Why not?” Shiloh shrugged. “Not my business.” Fair enough. Kiko came back with the kit. Dax waved him off. “Later.” Kiko looked between them and decided to be smart and leave it. At 3:50am, Ate Lorna came over with pandesal. She set a plate down. “Eat, Mr. Dax. You’re pale.” She looked at Shiloh. “You too, anak.” Shiloh didn’t move. “I’m not hungry.” Ate Lorna frowned, but didn’t push. She patted Shiloh’s hand. Shiloh didn’t pull away, but she didn’t lean in either. Dax ate one. To keep the peace. “You own this place,” Shiloh said finally. First full sentence since the streetlight. “I do,” Dax said. She nodded. That was it. Lena watched the exchange. “You got family, Shiloh?” Shiloh’s expression didn’t change. “Somewhere.” “Can we call them?” “No.” Lena and Dax exchanged a look. Outside, the sky was starting to lighten. The gray before dawn. The moon was still up, but thinner now. Dax felt it in his ribs. The ache easing. The bleeding had stopped. He didn’t say anything about it. Shiloh stood. “I’m leaving.” “Where to?” Dax asked. “Anywhere.” “It’s not safe to walk alone.” “I’m not alone,” Shiloh said. She wasn’t looking at him when she said it. She was looking past him. At the street. At the dark. Dax stood too. “I’ll walk you.” “You don’t have to.” “I know.” They walked. Kiko and Lena watched them go. The market was waking up. Vendors calling out. Music from a radio. The smell of grilled meat. Shiloh walked fast. Not running. Just like she had somewhere to be. “You can stop,” she said after two blocks. “I’m not following you,” Dax said. “I’m walking in the same direction.” Shiloh glanced at him. For the first time, something like amusement flickered in her eyes. Then it was gone. They stopped at the corner. The sun wasn’t up yet, but the streetlights were off. “This is where I get off,” Shiloh said. “Where are you going?” “Nowhere.” Dax nodded. He should let her go. That was the smart thing. He didn’t. “If you need—” “I don’t,” Shiloh said. “Thank you. For the coffee.” She turned and walked away. Into an alley that wasn’t on any map Dax owned. Dax watched until she was gone. Back at the market, Lena was wiping the counter. “She didn’t touch the water,” Lena said. “I noticed.” “She didn’t blink much either.” “I noticed that too.” Lena looked at him. “You’re bleeding less.” Dax looked down. The shirt was still ruined. But the cut was closed. “Huh,” he said. “You’re gonna see her again,” Lena said. It wasn’t a question. Dax didn’t answer. He just looked down the street, where Shiloh had disappeared. Shiloh Beltran didn’t explain herself. And Dax wasn’t going to push. Not tonight. He was just the man who owned the building. She was just the girl under the streetlight.