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Sophia did not sleep that night.

She sat at her kitchen table surrounded by the glow of her laptop, a pot of coffee growing cold beside her. She had spent hours digging up every piece of public information on Lucian Draegor that she could find.

On the surface, his story was impressive. He had been orphaned young, and had built Draegor Enterprises from nothing into a Fortune 500 company by the age of thirty. He was a noted philanthropist who donated millions to hospitals, schools, and the arts. He was also notoriously private, rarely photographed, and had never married.

When she dug deeper, the picture became much murkier. There were companies he owned that did not quite make sense, and real estate holdings in areas known for concentrated supernatural activity. There were always rumors, whispers of dark dealings, but nothing concrete enough for a legal pursuit.

And underneath it all were the whispers from the underworld. The stories that claimed he was not human. That he was primordial. That he was the demon king of New Eden, ruling a shadow empire from the top of his corporate tower.

Sophia studied his photograph, one of the few professional ones available online. He was handsome in a way that seemed almost calculated. He had dark hair, strong features, and eyes that seemed to look through the camera directly at the viewer. There was something deeply unsettling about those eyes, even in a still image.

Tomorrow I meet him, she thought. Tomorrow I will walk into his office and confront him.

Well, she was not quite accusing him. Not directly. But if the symbol was tied to his organization, he was either the killer or he knew who was. Either way, she was determined to get answers.

Her phone rang, the sudden noise making her jump. It was Elias.

"You should be sleeping," she said by way of greeting.

"So should you. I can hear you typing."

Sophia closed her laptop. "I am preparing."

"You are obsessing." His voice was gentle, full of concern. "Sophia, please. Think about what you are doing. Lucian Draegor is threatening. Everyone knows that. Walking in there alone is reckless."

"I will not be alone. You will be downstairs."

"That is not the same thing." There was a pause. "Let me come up with you. Please."

"He will not talk if you are there," she argued. "Men like that respect direct confrontation. If I show up with backup, I will look weak."

"You are not weak. You are smart. There is a difference."

Sophia felt a familiar warmth in her chest, a deep affection for this man who worried about her so much. "I know. But I need to do this my way. You have to trust me."

There was another pause, longer this time. "I trust you. I just do not trust him."

"Good. You should not."

After they hung up, Sophia returned to her research. She made notes, planned her questions, and built her strategy. She would be professional. She would be courteous but firm. She would not be intimidated.

By dawn, she had a plan. It probably would not survive first contact with the man himself, but at least she had something.

The knock on her door at seven o'clock made her flinch. She checked the peephole, then opened it to find Elias standing there with coffee and breakfast sandwiches.

"You look terrible," he said, his expression softening as he took in her tired face.

"Good morning to you too."

He came in without an invitation and set the food on her table. "When is the meeting?"

"Ten."

"Then you have time to eat, shower, and pretend you slept." He sat down and pushed a sandwich toward her. "I know you will not listen to me about canceling this. So at least let me make sure you do not pass out in his office."

Sophia sat down and picked up the sandwich. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For caring."

Elias looked at her with an expression she could not quite read. "Always."

They ate in a companionable silence. Afterward, Sophia showered, changed into her best suit, and checked her weapon. She was putting on her professional armor, the kind that made her feel capable and in control.

The drive to Draegor Enterprises was tense. Elias kept glancing at her, opening his mouth to speak, then closing it again.

"Just say it," Sophia finally said, her eyes on the road.

"If something feels wrong, if you get any sense that you are in peril, you leave. Immediately." His voice was firm. "I do not care about the case, or your father, or any of it. You leave."

"I will be careful."

"That is not what I asked."

Sophia looked at him then and saw the real fear in his eyes. "I promise. If I feel like I am in danger, I will leave."

It was not quite the truth, but it was close enough to make him relax slightly.

They arrived with twenty minutes to spare. This time, the receptionist was expecting her. "Detective Jones. You may go straight up."

There was no waiting this time. It was an interesting change. Either Lucian Draegor respected punctuality, or he wanted to throw her off balance by changing the expected dynamic.

In the elevator, Sophia checked her reflection in the polished doors. She looked professional. Competent. She looked like a woman who was not about to interview a demon king.

You can do this, she told herself firmly. He is just a man.

But as the elevator doors opened to the penthouse floor, and as she walked down that long hallway toward his office, she knew that was a lie.

Her phone lit up with a text from an unknown number.

A photo showing surveillance footage of her at the goblin's shop, timestamp from two hours ago.

Beneath it: We know where you have been. We know what you have learned. The question is, will you survive tomorrow's meeting?

Sophia stared at the screen, her blood turning to ice.

Someone was watching. Someone wanted her afraid

Good. Fear meant she was getting close.