The Urban Supernatural Guy

Marcus Vale pressed his face against the cold window of the taxi, watching the city lights blur past. Five years. Five fucking years since he'd left this place with nothing but the clothes on his back and a heart full of rage.

Now he was back, and everything was different.

"First time in the city?" the driver asked, glancing at him in the rearview mirror.

"Something like that." Marcus's voice was rougher now, scarred by years of training in places most people didn't know existed. The supernatural realm had changed him in ways that went beyond the power flowing through his veins.

His phone buzzed. Elena Sterling. Again.

He declined the call and stared at her contact photo—blonde hair, perfect smile, the same face that had looked at him with disgust five years ago when she chose Victor Ashford over him. When she stood in front of those cameras and called him a thief.

The taxi pulled up to the Meridian Hotel. Fifty floors of glass and steel, the kind of place Marcus used to dream about staying at back when he was just another broke college kid whose family business was circling the drain.

"That'll be thirty-two fifty," the driver said.

Marcus handed him a hundred. "Keep it."

The lobby was all marble and gold, filled with the kind of people who'd never worked a real day in their lives. Rich kids, politicians, CEOs who stepped on others to climb their way to the top. Marcus used to hate them. Now he just saw them as tools.

"Mr. Chen?" The desk clerk smiled at him with practiced politeness. "We have your penthouse ready. Welcome to the Meridian."

Mr. Chen. His new identity, bought and paid for with money earned in ways that would make these people shit themselves. Marcus Vale was dead, buried in newspaper articles about embezzlement and family disgrace. The man checking into the penthouse was someone else entirely.

The elevator climbed smoothly, and Marcus watched the numbers tick by. Each floor took him further from the broken kid who'd fled this city, and closer to the man who was going to burn it all down.

The penthouse was perfect. Floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the entire city, including the building where Vale Industries used to have its headquarters. Where his father used to work before they killed him and made it look like a heart attack.

Marcus poured himself a drink and stood at the window. Somewhere out there, the people who destroyed his family were living their comfortable lives. Elena was probably at some charity gala, playing the perfect socialite. Victor was counting his money, running the empire he'd stolen from the Vales.

They had no idea what was coming.

His reflection stared back at him from the glass—older, harder, with scars they couldn't see. The supernatural training had left its mark in more ways than one. He could feel energy humming beneath his skin, power that most humans couldn't even imagine.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

Marcus frowned. He wasn't expecting anyone. Room service hadn't been called. The front desk knew better than to disturb him.

He opened the door to find a woman in an expensive business suit. Asian, maybe thirty, with the kind of confident smile that meant trouble.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm Sophia Chen," she said, walking past him into the penthouse like she owned the place. "And I think we need to talk."

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

Sophia laughed, settling into his leather chair without invitation. "You should. I'm the one who's been tracking you for the past six months. Nice work on the fake identity, by the way. Very thorough."

Marcus felt the familiar tingle of power responding to danger. His senses sharpened, picking up details most people would miss. Her heartbeat was steady—she wasn't afraid. Her scent carried hints of expensive perfume and something else, something that made his supernatural instincts wake up.

"I think you have me confused with someone else."

"Marcus Vale," she said simply. "Son of Richard Vale, former heir to Vale Industries. Supposedly died in a car crash five years ago, right after being framed for embezzlement by his own business partners."

The glass in Marcus's hand cracked. Power leaked out before he could control it, responding to the spike of emotion.

"Interesting," Sophia said, watching the broken glass with curious eyes. "I wondered if the rumors were true."

"What rumors?"

"That Richard Vale's son didn't just disappear. That he found something in those ruins outside the city. Something that changed him."

Marcus set down what was left of his drink. "What do you want?"

"The same thing you do. I want Victor Ashford dead. I want Elena Sterling to lose everything. I want the people who destroyed our families to pay."

"Our families?"

Sophia's smile turned cold. "My father died in a car crash five years ago. Same week as yours. Same method—brake lines cut to look like an accident. Took me this long to connect the dots."

The room went very quiet. Marcus could hear his own heartbeat, could feel the power building under his skin like electricity before a storm.

"That's impossible. Your father wasn't—"

"Wasn't connected to your family's business? You're right. But he was connected to something else. Something those bastards wanted to keep quiet." She pulled out a tablet, swiped to a photo of his father shaking hands with an older Asian man. "My father was investigating Vale Industries' real business. Not the construction company everyone knew about. The other thing."

Marcus stared at the photo. He'd never seen it before, but something about it felt familiar. Like a memory trying to surface.

"What other thing?"

"The reason they really killed your father. The reason they framed you and tried to make sure you'd never come back to ask questions." Sophia stood up, straightening her jacket. "But that's a conversation for another day. Right now, we have a more immediate problem."

His phone started ringing. Elena again.

This time, when he looked at the screen, there was a text message waiting: "I know you're back. We need to talk. Meet me at the old warehouse on Fifth Street. Come alone, or she dies."

Below the message was a photo that made Marcus's blood turn to ice.

A young woman tied to a chair, beaten and bloody. Dark hair, Vale family eyes.

Amanda. His sister. Who was supposed to be dead.

"Seems like someone wants your attention," Sophia said, looking at his phone. "Question is—are you ready for what comes next?"

The power under Marcus's skin exploded outward, shattering every piece of glass in the penthouse. The lights flickered and died, leaving them in darkness broken only by the city lights below.

Five years of planning. Five years of training. Five years of waiting for revenge.

It was all starting now.