Page 1 – "Blood in the Concrete" Night.
Chicago hums in shadows. Rain taps on rusted fire escapes. Neon signs flicker, dying slowly. Detective Kate McAllister slouches against the cold brick of an alley wall, her breath painting mist against the dim glow of a streetlamp. A body lies ten feet away—what's left of it. No gunshot. No blade. Just shredded flesh and claw marks in concrete. "Whoever did this," she mutters, pulling her coat tighter, "wasn’t human."
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