Tempted By The Alpha Of Manhattan

DAVE 

The sun was already up, and it felt personal. The light pushed through my dusty blinds, way too bright, like it was calling me out for still being awake. It landed right on the bloody bandages in the trash, making the whole place look messed up, like some low-budget horror movie I never asked to be in.

Meredith was finally asleep. The gold in her eyes was gone, replaced by the worn-out look of someone who had been through hell. She was sleeping in my bed, under my old blue comforter, looking too small for a woman who ran a billion-dollar company.

Elena was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and staring at a cup of coffee like it was the only thing holding her together. She looked completely wrecked. Her expensive blouse was wrinkled, her hair was everywhere, and that calm, professional assistant look was gone.

I felt just as bad. Like a walking corpse. My shoulder still hurt where Meredith had grabbed me during the whole "surgery" mess, and my head was full of half-remembered images-gold eyes, metal, blood. I dragged myself into the kitchen, mostly just looking for water to shock myself awake. I didn't even think as I left my laptop open on the counter.

Big mistake.

I was drying my face with a paper towel, listening to the faucet drip, when I heard Elena gasp. It was small, sharp, and it made the hair on my neck stand up.

"Dave... what the hell is this?"

I froze. Slowly, I turned, paper towel still in my hand, and my stomach sank. Elena was staring at the laptop screen. She was looking at the lab report I'd been obsessing over since it was sent to me.

The word MUTATED was glowing in the center of the screen in big, ugly letters. Right next to it was a stamp: RESTRICTED CIRCULATION / PENDING SUPERVISOR REVIEW.

"Elena, don't. Close it," I said, reaching for the laptop.

She pushed my hand away, her eyes wide and scared. "Is she sick? For God's sake, Dave, is this why she was growling? Is this some kind of virus? Are we... are we going to catch this too? Are you kidding me right now?"

"It's not a virus," I said, keeping my voice low and trying to sound in control. "And she's not dangerous. She's just... different. Her body is reacting to the silver, Elena. That's it."

"The report says mutated, Dave! It says anomaly!" Elena was shaking so much she almost dropped her coffee. "You're a detective. You're supposed to report this. Why are we hiding in your apartment with my boss whose DNA looks like a sci‑fi movie? We're going to jail!"

I peeked through the bedroom door at Meredith. She was buried under my old blue comforter, looking tiny and pale. She didn't look like the "Iron Goddess." She looked like a girl who was hurting.

"Because if I report it, she's gone," I said, and the way my voice came out shocked even me. "They'll take her somewhere locked down. A high-security lab, Elena. They won't treat her like a CEO.They'll see a problem. Something to study. I'm not letting that happen to her."

I grabbed the laptop and snapped it shut. I knew how things worked. It was Saturday, January 3rd. Nobody important was checking anything today. The auditor wouldn't even touch the system until Monday. That gave me time.

I pulled out my phone and switched on Airplane Mode. No calls or messages.

"Look, Elena," I said, rubbing my face with both hands. I felt exhausted down to my bones. "It's the weekend. Go home. Get some real sleep. Change your clothes. I've got her here. I'll call you if anything changes."

Elena crossed her arms. "Are you serious right now? I'm not leaving her alone with you."

"I'm a cop, Elena," I said. "Not some psycho or serial killer."

"You're still a guy," she shot back. "A guy she barely knows. And she's passed out and... whatever that report says she is. I'm her PA. I actually know her. I'm staying. It's Saturday. I don't have anywhere to be, and I don't trust you to handle this alone."

"You're going to hate that couch," I warned.

"I've spent three years working for Meredith Stevens," she said, sitting down on my lumpy sofa. "I can deal with a little discomfort. Now go make some more coffee before I pass out."

I sighed but didn't argue. Having her here was actually kind of a relief. It made things feel a little more normal-like we were just two people taking care of a sick friend, not fugitives hiding some science experiment.

I walked over to the window and pulled the blinds back just a little, my hand resting on my gun out of habit. I half-expected to see that same black SUV sitting there, quiet and patient, like it had all the time in the world.

The street was empty.

The spot under the broken streetlight was clear. No car. No dark windows. No engine running. Just a stray cat tearing into a trash bag like it owned the place. I let out a long, shaky breath I didn't even realize I'd been holding.

What the hell, Callahan? I thought, rubbing my eyes until they burned. You're seriously losing it.

It was probably nothing. Just some random guy visiting someone in the building. I'd spent the last six hours jumping at shadows, spiraling over a car that was probably just trying to find parking. I felt stupid. Exhausted. Wired in that bad way where your body won't calm down even when it should.

"He's gone," I whispered to myself. "I'm really out here panicking over a parked car."

I sat back down in the chair by the bed, keeping an eye on Meredith. She was breathing easier now. I started to relax a little. The SUV was gone, the report was stuck in some system queue, and it was a quiet Saturday morning in Queens. Maybe I could actually grab an hour of sleep.

I leaned my head back and closed my eyes for just a second.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

I almost fell out of the chair. Someone was slamming on my front door, real pounding. Hard, steady hits that made it sound like the door might actually come off the frame.

"Dave! Open up! I know you're in there, you lazy bastard!"

My blood went cold. I knew that voice.

"Oh, for God's sake," I whispered.

"Who is that?" Elena whispered, standing up from the couch, eyes wide.

"It's Miller," I whispered back, my heart hammering. "My partner from the precinct."

"Your partner? Why is he here? Did he see the report?"

"No, no..." I glanced at the calendar on the wall and realized what I'd forgotten. "It's my birthday."

"What?" Elena stared at me like I was insane.

"I forgot," I muttered, dragging a hand through my hair. "He does this every year. Shows up with food and beer like it's a tradition or something. He's not going anywhere. If I don't open that door, he'll assume I'm dead and call the fire department to bust it down. He's that stupid."

THUD. THUD. THUD.

"Callahan! Open up!" Miller yelled from the hallway. "I brought the good donuts, and I'm not eating them alone! Don't make me use my spare key!"

I looked at the bedroom door where Meredith was sleeping. If Miller came inside, he'd see everything. The most famous CEO in New York laid out in my bed. The blood. The mess. And if she woke up... those gold eyes.

"Go," I whispered to Elena, pointing at the bedroom. "Stay in there. Don't make a sound. If he hears anything weird, we're done."

Her eyes went wide, but she nodded fast, slipped into the bedroom, and closed the door as quietly as she could.

I stood there for a second, heart racing, then walked to the front door. My hands were shaking. I wiped my face, rubbed my eyes like I'd just rolled out of bed, and pulled the door open just a little.

Miller was standing there, a big, annoying smile on his face, holding a greasy paper bag and a six-pack.

"Happy thirty-third, Dave!" he yelled, trying to shove past me. "Why the hell is your phone off? I've been calling for an hour. I thought you died of old age."

"Miller, hey... now's really not a good time," I said, blocking the doorway with my body.

His grin faded a little. He sniffed the air and squinted into the apartment.

"Is that... antiseptic? And why do you look like you just got run through a meat grinder?"

Before I could stop him, he shoved the door and stepped inside. He froze in the middle of my tiny living room. He looked around slowly, then at me, a suspicious smirk creeping onto his face.

"Wait a second," Miller said, his grin coming back. "You've got a girl in here, don't you? Dave Callahan finally got lucky?"

"Miller, just listen-"

"Oh, I have to see who finally broke the curse," he laughed, already moving toward the bedroom. "Is she cute? Does she have a sister?"

"Miller, don't," I said, panic shooting straight up my spine as I reached for his arm.

Too late.

His hand was already on the door handle.