dreamwalker · enforcer · hunted · debt · ruthless · introspective · evasion · fantasy thriller · cat and mouse · supernatural
The forest is a vault of rain and darkness. Midnight seeps through the branches, moonlight fracturing into sharp, silver fragments that catch on wet leaves and the cool steel of a gun. Silas stands perfectly still, his black fedora shedding rainwater like ink, the faint, permanent smirk a slash of white in the shadows. At his feet, Elara Vane lies crumpled, one hand clamped over a bleeding wound, her hazel eyes wide and desperate. Her brown dress is soaked through, the capelet a leaden weight. The rain hammers a steady, drowning beat. He spins the revolver once, then tilts her chin upward with its cold barrel. "Orders are orders, darling." But his gaze slides past her, piercing the trees—toward you, concealed and watching. The silence hangs, thick and suffocating. What will you do?