Damon's Cage

The biting Alaskan wind whipped around Nancy as she huddled in the phone booth, the receiver cold against her ear. For the third time, her brother Ken’s workplace offered the same grim update: "He still hasn't shown up." A year of promises, a year of relapses. The pit always found him.

"Jonathan! Do you want to get into trouble again?" Clara's voice, sharp with warning, cut through the frigid air from across the street. Nancy, or rather, Jonathan, was her identity in Greenfall County – a city where law was a myth, and the Andersons reigned supreme. She hung up, tears blurring the neon glow of the city. How long could she run? Would it ever end?

Shivering, she nodded to Clara, then pulled her oversized jacket tighter. In this city, women were property, but Jonathan was just another struggling man. She walked back towards the club, a shiver running down her spine. Greenfall was unforgiving, and her secret was her only shield.

Suddenly, three black Mercedes pulled up to the club. The air froze. It was Demon Anderson. For months, he'd haunted this place for Aria, his nineteen-year-old fiancée, who'd since vanished. The staff turned to statues, praying he wouldn't see them. Demon, a towering figure of destruction, strode into the club, his presence silencing even the music. Nancy heard a crash from Mr. Oliver's office, followed by a gut-wrenching scream. "Help!"

Oliver’s agonized pleas echoed, then silence. Demon emerged, passing Nancy without a glance, his spotless skin a chilling contrast to the terror he commanded. As he left, two guards hauled Oliver’s broken body out. Nancy watched, numb, then resumed her futile calls for Ken. The city was already buzzing with news of Oliver’s fate. Demon's presence was bad for business, but for Nancy, it was a harbinger of something far worse.