Jake sprawled across his worn-out couch, one leg dangling over the armrest, the other tucked under a cushion. The TV flickered in the dim room, casting shadows on the walls of his small apartment. A half-empty beer sat on the coffee table next to a game controller. He'd been flipping between a rerun of some cop show and a video game he'd already beaten twice. It was a typical Saturday night for him. But in all honesty his life was pretty uneventful. Work, gym, TV, games. That was his life. Simple. Quiet. He liked it that way.
At twenty-eight, Jake was a good-looking guy. Dark hair, sharp jawline, broad shoulders from years of hauling tools and hitting the weights. Women noticed him, sure, but other than the occasional hook-ups, he didn't spend his time chasing them. Single life suited him. No drama, no hassle. Just him and his routine.
Outside, thunder rumbled. Rain pounded the windows, streaking the glass in messy lines. A storm had rolled in an hour ago, and was it a doozy. Jake glanced out and smirked. Perfect night to stay in. Although... maybe he'd hit the gym later. There was this girl there he'd been talking to. Blonde, fit, flirty. She'd skipped the last few nights, but he hoped she'd show up tonight. If she did, maybe he'd get lucky. A little conversation, a little charm, and who knows? He grinned at the thought, sinking deeper into the couch.
His phone buzzed on the table, cutting through the drone of the TV. He groaned, reaching for it. The screen lit up with "Boss" in bold letters. Jake frowned. It was late for a call. He swiped to answer.
"Yeah, Mike, what's up?" he said, voice lazy.
"Jake, I need you to do something," Mike said. His tone was tight, like he was already bracing for pushback.
Jake sat up a little. "It's Saturday night, man. I'm off."
"I know, I know. But listen. One of our big clients called. The Warrens. You know, that mega-rich family up on the hill? They've got an emergency. Their satellite and electrical system are down. They want it fixed tonight."
Jake laughed. A sharp, barking sound. "You're kidding, right? There's a damn thunderstorm out there. Tell them to wait till morning."
"I'm serious, Jake," Mike said. "They're freaking out. Said it's urgent."
Jake shook his head, still chuckling. "Come on, Mike. It's pouring. Lightning's everywhere. You want me to climb a roof in this?"
"I'd do it myself, but it's my weekend with the kids," Mike said. "I can't leave them. Look, I get it. It's not ideal weather for this and the Warrens are a lot. They're picky, they're loud, but they're loaded and they bring in half our business. We can't lose them."
Jake rubbed his face with one hand. "This is nuts."
"I know. I'll owe you one, okay? Anything you want."
Jake smirked. "Anything I want, huh?"
"Name it," Mike said.
"Alright. How about your ex-wife's number?" Jake said, grinning. "That'd square us up."
Mike burst out laughing. "What the hell, man? I thought you learned from me. You don't stick your dick in crazy."
Jake laughed too. "Yeah, I know. But she's hot, Mike. Can't blame a guy for trying."
"Fuck you," Mike said, still laughing. "Just do this job. We'll figure out something for you. Deal?"
Jake sighed, leaning back. "Fine. But you're buying my beers the next time we go out. Probably the next three times."
"Done. Get over there quick. They're already blowing up my phone."
The call ended. Jake tossed the phone onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. Rich people. Always thinking the world spun for them. He stood, stretched, and grabbed his keys. Time to suit up.
He pulled on his work boots and a rain jacket, the kind that never kept him fully dry. His tools were already in the truck, a beat-up Ford he'd had since he graduated. He stepped outside, and the rain hit him like a slap. Thunder cracked overhead, loud enough to rattle his teeth. He jogged to the truck, climbed in, and slammed the door.
The engine sputtered to life. Jake shook his head as he pulled out of the lot. "Ridiculous," he muttered. "Who needs a satellite fixed in a storm? Watch a damn DVD or something."
The drive to the Warrens' place took thirty minutes. The whole way, he grumbled to himself. The wipers swished back and forth, barely keeping up with the downpour. Lightning lit the sky in jagged flashes, turning the road into a wet, shiny mess. He passed strip malls and gas stations, then hit the winding roads that led up to the fancy part of town. Big houses. Gated drives. Perfect lawns.
The Warrens lived at the top of the hill. A wall of stone wrapped around the property, topped with iron spikes. Jake pulled up to the gate and hit the buzzer. A voice crackled through the speaker, sharp and impatient.
"Yes? Who is it?"
"Jake. Electrician. Here to fix your stuff," he said, keeping it short.
The gate buzzed open. He drove through, tires crunching on gravel. Eventually he pulled up to the front of the house, and his jaw dropped. The house wasn't just big. It was massive. A monster of a place, all white stone and glass, stretching across the hill like it owned the world. Towers poked up from the corners. Windows glowed like eyes in the storm. He'd seen rich houses before, but this? This was insane.
Rain hammered his truck. Thunder growled low and mean. He grabbed his tool bag, took a deep breath, and shoved the door open. The cold hit him first, then the wet. He sprinted across the driveway, fifteen feet of open ground, and made it to the door in seconds. Didn't matter. By the time he got there, he was soaked. Water dripped off his jacket, his hair, the tool bag. He shook himself like a dog and knocked.
The door swung open. A woman stood there, tall and curvy, with lips so full they had to be fake. Her chest strained against a tight silk robe, clearly enhanced too. She was hot, no question. Sharp cheekbones, dark eyes, blonde hair piled high. But her face was sour, lips pursed like she'd bitten something bitter.
"Finally," she snapped. "You took forever."
Jake wiped rain from his eyes. "It's pouring out there. Lightning too. Roads are a mess."
She didn't care. "We're paying you. Plus the bad weather modifier. So go do your job."
He bit back a curse. "Yeah. Sure. Let me grab my stuff."
She waved a hand, dismissive, and turned away. Jake trudged back to his truck, not even bothering to dodge the rain now. It didn't matter. He was already drenched. As he walked, his mind wandered. That woman was a piece of work. Rude, entitled. But damn, she was hot. Fake or not, he wouldn't mind getting her alone. Personality aside, he'd enjoy himself. He smirked at the thought, then shook it off. The sooner he was done here the sooner he could head out.
He yanked the ladder from the truck bed, hoisted it over his shoulder, and slogged back to the house. The side wall loomed ahead, slick with rain. He set the ladder against it, tested the rungs, and climbed. The wind whipped at him, tugging his jacket. His boots slipped once, but he caught himself. As he climbed, his mind wandered back to the gym. The blonde. Her laugh. The way she'd leaned in close last time they talked. He'd rather be there than here, soaked and shivering. But a job was a job. And Mike owed him. Maybe he'd cash that favor in for a day off. Or a raise. Or, hell, maybe he'd push for the ex-wife's number again, just to mess with him.
Up on the roof, he paused. The view was wild. The storm lit the sky in flashes, showing off the sprawl city in the valley below.
He spotted the satellite dish right away. It was a mess. Black scorch marks streaked the metal. A lightning strike, no doubt. He shook his head. Who even used satellite anymore? Rich people and their toys. He crossed the roof, careful on the wet tiles, and crouched by the dish. Maybe he could patch it. Get it to work. Get out of here.
But as he got close, something felt off. A weird warmth hit him, soft at first, then stronger. Like the dish was humming with energy. He frowned. Then came the sounds. Low, faint, familiar. Voices? Music? He couldn't place it. He glanced around. Nothing but rain and dark. No one up here but him.
He shrugged. Probably someone in the house below him cracking the music. He reached for the dish, fingers brushing the edge. A crack split the air, sharp and close. He looked up, wondering if he needed to move. But it was too late. Lightning tore through the sky and slammed into the dish. The jolt hit him like a truck. Electricity burned through his hands, his arms, his chest. His vision blurred. His legs gave out.
He was falling. That was his first thought. The roof slipped away, and he tumbled backward. His second thought hit as he dropped. This fall felt wrong. Too long. He'd climbed maybe fifteen feet up. He should've hit the ground by now. But he kept going, down and down, the world fading to black.
His body went limp. The storm's roar dulled to a hum. Then nothing.
Jake woke up slow. His head pounded. His body ached. A light mist fell, cool and soft, not the heavy rain from before. He blinked, staring up at a gray sky. No thunder. No lightning. Just quiet. He pushed himself up, hands pressing into the wet ground. Confusion hit him fast. How long had he been out?
He looked around. His heart skipped. He wasn't at the base of the Warrens' mega-mansion. No big walls. No fancy windows. Instead, he lay between two buildings. Old buildings. Rough stone, wooden beams, slanted roofs. They looked like something from a medieval fair. Or one of those ancient town setups at a museum. Panic clawed at his chest. He stood, legs wobbly, and spun in a circle.
The place was a town. Narrow streets twisted between houses. Cobbled paths stretched out. Signs of life were everywhere. A cart tipped over. A bucket left by a well. Smoke stains on chimneys. But no people. Not a sound. The town was empty.
Jake's brow furrowed. This wasn't right. He'd been on a roof. Lightning hit him. He fell. Now he was here? He touched his head, checking for blood. Nothing. Maybe he'd hit it hard. Maybe this was a dream or a hallucination. He shook himself. No. Too real. The mist on his skin. The ache in his bones. This was happening.
"Where am I?" he muttered. He raised his voice. "Hey! Anyone here?"
A hand grabbed his shoulder. Someone yanked him back. A voice hissed in his ear, low and sharp. "Shut up. Unless you want us both dead. The kikimora might be stupid, but it's not deaf."
Jake's eyes widened. Kikimora? That rang a bell. He turned, slow, heart racing. The person behind him was a woman. Dark hair, pale skin, violet eyes. She wore a black dress, tight and low-cut, with a vibe that screamed danger. His jaw dropped. He knew her. Yennefer. From
The Witcher
. The game he'd played a hundred times.
He stumbled back a step. "What the actual fuck?"
She tilted her head, staring at him. Her eyes narrowed. "What are you still doing here? The whole town fled."
Jake glanced around, then back at her. "I'm not from around here. I don't even know how I got here. Honestly, I think I might be..."
She lunged. Her hand clamped over his mouth. She shoved him against the wall, hard. Her body pressed into his. Her breasts pushed against his chest. His breath caught. Up close, she was even more stunning. Those eyes. That scent, sharp and sweet. He froze, mind spinning.
