The Prologue: Blueprints

The salt air always tasted like the future.

Lisa sat on the hood of Kenny’s beat-up sedan, parked at the highest point of the Overlook. Below them, the coastal town of Oakhaven was a grid of amber streetlights and the dark, churning expanse of the Atlantic. Kenny was spread out beside her, staring at a crumpled architectural diagram he’d salvaged from a construction site trash bin. He wasn't just looking at the lines; he was tracing the circuitry with his finger, his eyes bright in the moonlight.

"Look at this, Lise," he said, his voice brimming with a quiet, steady confidence. "The way they wired this main hub... it’s messy. I could do it cleaner. If I get into the Local 102 apprenticeship, three years from now, I’ll be the one signing off on the blueprints for the new high-rises downtown."

Lisa looked at him, not the blueprints. At eighteen, Kenny felt invincible. He had a way of speaking that made the world feel small enough to fit in his hands.

"You’ll be the best they’ve ever had," she said softly.

He turned to her, the salt wind messing up his hair. "It’s not just about being the best. It’s about the house on the north side of the bay. The one with the wrap-around porch where you can paint and never have to worry about the rent increase or the neighbors shouting through the walls. I’m going to build that for you. Every wire, every light, every switch."

Lisa leaned her head on his shoulder. At that moment, the struggles of their parents—the missed shifts, the debt collectors, the tired eyes—felt like a ghost story that couldn't touch them. They were the exception.

"I believe you," she whispered.

Kenny pulled her closer, his jacket smelling of laundry detergent and the sea. "Just wait, Lisa. We’re almost there. Just a couple more years of work, and we’re out of the shadows for good."

As a freighter ship blew its horn in the distance, signaling its arrival at the docks, Lisa closed her eyes and saw the life he was building. It was bright, it was safe, and it was theirs.

But the shadows were patient.

Months later, on the final night of August, the heat clung to the skin like a secret that refused to be told. They were sitting on the edge of the docks, feet dangling over the black water, watching the lights of the North Side shimmer like fallen stars. The optimism of the Overlook felt like a lifetime ago.

"I got the call," Kenny said. He didn’t look at her. He was staring at his hands—hands that were meant to wire the world, now stained with the grease of a temp job that paid in cash and broken promises. "The apprenticeship... they gave the slot to the foreman's nephew. They said I was 'overqualified' for the basic crew, but they didn't have room for a Master track."

Lisa felt a cold shiver go down her spine that had nothing to do with the ocean breeze. This was the third "no" in six months. She looked at the profile of his face—the jawline that used to hold so much laughter was now set like stone.

"We’ll find another way, Ken," she said, reaching for his hand.

He pulled away, just an inch, but it felt like a mile. "There is no other way, Lisa. The bills don't care about 'another way.' The landlord doesn't care about my blueprints."

He stood up, his shadow stretching long and jagged across the wooden planks. For the first time, he didn't look like the boy who was going to build her a house. He looked like a man who was drowning in plain sight.

Lisa watched him walk back to the car, and she realized then that she had a choice. She could drown with him, or she could learn to hunt in the dark.

She didn't know yet that the "hunt" had a name. She didn't know about the neon lights, the smell of expensive cigars, or the mysterious man who would be waiting in the shadows of a place called The Gilded Cage. She only knew that the girl who believed in blueprints was about to die, and someone much more dangerous was about to be born.