The rain fell hard on the cobblestone streets that night. A single streetlamp flickered weakly above the empty alleyway. Detective Clara Voss adjusted her gloves with a quiet sigh. Her breath formed misty clouds in the cold, damp air. The victim’s body lay sprawled near the rusted fire escape. A pool of dark liquid glistened under the dim light. Clara knelt carefully, avoiding the scattered broken glass nearby. Her flashlight beam trembled slightly as she examined the scene. The victim’s face was frozen in an expression of pure terror. A single playing card rested on the chest, face down. Footsteps echoed faintly from the shadows at the alley’s end. Clara’s hand instinctively reached for the revolver at her hip. The footsteps stopped abruptly, leaving only silence behind them. She stood slowly, scanning the darkness with narrowed eyes. Something—or someone—was watching her from the night.