Prologue
The silence is wrong.
It isn’t peaceful or calm. It’s heavy and thick. Like the whole world is holding its breath, waiting for something awful to begin.
I’m standing in the middle of nowhere, though I don’t remember how I got here. I know this place. Not because I’ve been here before but because it feels right, abandoned and silent. I turn slowly, unsure what I’m looking for. No signs. No vehicles. No buildings. Just black sky, broken gravel and that gnawing feeling in my gut that I’m being watched.
I rise to my feet but my legs feel wrong. Too light. Too stiff. I don’t even flinch when I hear footsteps. I glance behind me. And then I see him. A figure, at first just a shadow at the edge of vision. Slow, deliberate, walking toward me like he’s practiced this moment in his head a thousand times.
He walks straight toward me. Not running of course not. Like he already knows I won’t run. He knows I don’t fear the way normal people do. His steps are soft but they echo too loudly, bouncing off everything and nothing.
I stand still.
Not because I’m frozen.
Because I’m calculating.
There’s no hesitation in his stride, no confusion in his face. Like he knows exactly why we’re both here, but the thing is he doesn’t.
He knows What I’ve done.
He knows who I am.
And still he came.
But the problem is that he doesn’t actually know my identity. He just knows what I’m capable of. And I know exactly who he is even though he’s wearing a mask to hide his face. Cause I’m the one who made him come here.
His face is calm but his eyes give it away, rage always leaks out through the eyes. Crimson rage, buried deep.
He’s holding a knife.
Sleek. Elegant.
Not his first time, I’d bet.
Does he think he can defeat me in my own game?
Cute. And funny.
He stops a few feet away. Not too close. Just enough for his words to land sharp. He takes off his mask and says, “You’re smaller than I imagined.” His voice steady but there’s something simmering under it. Anger? Loss?
I’ve heard it before.
I’ve caused it before.
“You’ve done your homework,” I reply.
He almost smirks. “Didn’t need to. You left a trail. Not blood. Names. Unfinished one.”
I say nothing.
His smile is soft, almost tired, like he’s waited years to get here. He studies me for a long moment then says, “I guess we both have been waiting for this night.”
He steps forward, slow. Purposeful. “I could’ve brought a gun,” he says. “Ended it quick. But that wouldn’t feel right. You wouldn’t respect that, would you?” he tilts his head. “And you don’t deserve quick.”
He reaches into his coat. Pulls out another knife. Similar. Tosses it at my feet like a dare. “Pick it up,” he says. Guess he wants a fair fight and he’s going to regret this soon.
I pick the knife up without hesitation. The handle is cool in my palm. Familiar. Almost… nostalgic.
He watches me like he’s trying to remember who I used to be. Or maybe trying to forget it.
“I always knew you’d end up like this,” he murmurs. “Even back then you were built for the blood.” There’s a flicker in my chest. Not fear of course. He knows. He’s known for a long time. Still, I don’t give him the satisfaction of an answer.
“Don’t look so surprised,” he says. “I read between lines. Between the lines, you weren’t hiding. Not really. You were waiting for someone to say it out loud.”
He smiles. It’s thin. Detached. “I just wanted to see it for myself.” A pause. Then: “What a monster looks like… when it knows it’s finally been seen.”
Monster.
I don’t flinch. I step forward, just once. The knife hangs loose in my hand. But he knows better. He knows it’s never loose when I’m holding it.
“If you came for justice…” I say softly. “You’re going to leave disappointed. Oh, I forgot. Only one of us is leaving and that won’t be you.”
His reply is instant. I knew it would be. “I didn’t come for justice.” His eyes meet mine, dark and unrelenting. “I came to end what I started.”
A pause. Breathless. Taut.
I let my mouth curl, just slightly. “Funny,” I whisper. “So did I.”
The streetlight above us flickers once, then dies. Darkness takes everything else.
Two blades.
Two killers.
One ending.
“Let’s see who lives,” he says.
I take a step closer. “We already know who will.”
And in that breathless moment, two killers step forward – toward the ending they’ve both waited for.
