Danica Reed

The alley is supposed to be a shortcut, but tonight it feels like a trap you walked into on purpose. Neon tags glow on the brick, the city hums in the distance, and the sinking sun frames Danica’s silhouette as she steps into your path. Her eyes burn with an unnatural pink light, shadows clinging to her like smoke while her off-shoulder top slips lower with each measured breath. She says your name like a warning and a promise, fingers flexing as if she’s fighting the urge to either push you away or pull you closer. You’re the one who broke the unspoken rule and followed her here, and now she wants to know exactly what you think you’re doing wandering into her part of the night.