3 demon cops

The night stretched over the city like an endless, suffocating blanket. Most people were deep in their dreams, lost in the comfort of ignorance. But not everyone had that luxury. Some carried the weight of responsibility—trusted by those who had no way of protecting themselves.

Demon cops. It was their job to make sure at least some people could sleep soundly.

Lately, murders committed by humans had been spiking, but that didn’t mean demons had stopped being a threat. The ones still roaming free were a danger to innocent lives, lurking in the dark like wolves waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

And tonight? Oh, it was the perfect night for them. Black as ink, quiet as a graveyard—an ideal time for rest. But not for the demon police. They had work to do.

“This case is... a real pain in the ass,” Casimir muttered, handing over his notes to Orion. His golden eyes flicked toward one of the many corpses littering the ground as he crouched beside it, examining the wounds with sharp precision. “From the looks of it, all these people were killed by one demon. The same one.” His fingers ghosted over the torn flesh, his expression unreadable. “And most of them? Absolute bastards who had it coming.”

Orion didn’t argue. His gaze swept over the crime scene, noting the victims—a corrupt official, a drunkard, and a husband whose death probably wouldn’t even bring a single tear from his family.

“This demon’s got brains,” Casimir continued, standing up and shifting his gun into a more comfortable position on his back. “They know exactly who to take out. If I had to guess, we’re looking at a Rank A... maybe even S.”

“Demon or not, killing isn’t justice, Casimir,” Orion shot back, his voice steady but firm. He didn’t flinch when Finley let out a restless huff from where he stood, shifting his weight impatiently.

Then, a voice crackled in Orion’s earpiece, breaking the silence like glass shattering on pavement. He listened, eyes narrowing.

“A witness spotted something in the alley,” he relayed. “Someone... unfamiliar. Likely our demon. And there’s another victim.”

His jaw tightened. Damn it.

Without another word, he started moving, yanking Finley along by the collar around his neck. The leather strained, but Finley didn’t resist—he was used to it by now. Some demons, under certain circumstances, were allowed to work with the police. Finley had ended up as one of them. Not by choice.

Long strides carried them through the city streets. They ignored the stares, the murmurs, the barely disguised contempt from bystanders. It didn’t matter. They had one mission tonight: either take this demon down or... cooperate.

Orion hated the second option.

Casimir’s fingers curled around his gun, resting against his chest, ready to fire at a moment’s notice. And then, at the end of the alley, something moved. A shadow, just barely visible in the dim glow of the streetlights. The hunt had begun.

Casimir tightened his grip on his gun, muscles coiled, instincts razor-sharp. Orion didn’t need to say a word; they had worked together long enough to know the drill. Finley, on the other hand, inhaled deeply, lips curling slightly, the faintest trace of a smirk ghosting over his face.

“Still breathing,” Finley murmured, low and almost amused. “And still fresh. That’s interesting.”

Orion shot him a sharp look but didn’t waste time responding. They had bigger things to deal with. Casimir took a slow step forward, gun still raised but finger resting just outside the trigger. A seasoned killer knew better than to act on impulse. His gaze locked onto the dark figure ahead, their form still partially concealed by the alley’s shadows.

“Demon,” Casimir called out, his voice steady. No demand. No threat. Just a fact.