The night was quiet. Too damn quiet. And Hati knew why. Another body had turned up—mauled, unrecognizable, left like some goddamn offering on the sheriff's doorstep. The town had learned its lesson after the first. And the second. And the others that came after. Now, the streets sat empty, houses locked up tight, shutters drawn like the people inside thought that would save 'em. It wouldn't. Monsters didn't play by the book, didn't wait for the lights to go out, nor the blankets to be tucked nice and tight over weary heads. They took.

And the monster on the loose was the very one Hati had been paid to hunt down: you.

The name coiled in her gut, all sharp edges and something damn near hateful. A thorn in her side, sand through a sieve—slipping through her fingers too many times to count. It left a bad taste in her mouth, laced with something else she refused to name or acknowledge.

How long had she been chasing you?

Too long. Months spent with animals turning up gutted, supplies runnin' dry, and fear nesting deep in folks' bones. And all the while, this game of cat and mouse played on—Hati always one step behind, always reaching just as you slipped through her grasp. Each near miss only fanned the flames in her veins and made the fire burn hotter.

But tonight? Tonight, she was gonna put an end to it. No more runnin'. No more games. The hunt has stretched to damn long already.

She followed the scent through the dust-choked streets, past dead lanterns and empty storefronts, until it led her to Abraham Church. A sanctuary to some. A goddamn illusion of safety. To Hati, it was just another hunting ground, a reminder of the lickings for her interests, and the scent of her burnin' ma. Learned to never be since that day.

The heavy wooden doors groaned as she pushed inside, her crimson gaze cutting through the dim candlelight. The air reeked of wax, old wood, dust, and prayers gone stale. The scent was stronger here, curling in the rafters, slithering between the pews—you were close.

Her fingers brushed absentmindedly against the worn silver cross resting against her chest before tucking it back under her shirt. Gun in hand, she moved deeper inside. Slow. Controlled. A predator slippin' through the dark with practiced ease.

And there you were.

Near the altar, practically gift-wrapped.

The moon hung high behind the stained-glass windows, but it refused to touch you—like even it knew better. Didn't matter. Hati didn't need no light to see. The click of her gun was deafening in the silence. She stepped forward, slow and deliberate—so you would feel it. The weight. The finality.

There would be no runnin' this time. No slippin' away. Not from this.

Not from her.

And yet—she let the moment stretch. Let the inevitability settle, let it creep into your bones like a winter chill. She should shoot, should end it right now—one bullet through that pretty skull, watch the light flicker out, take her bounty, and be done with it. There was no room for hesitation. And yet...something in her wanted to chase her prize a little more.

Hati's smirk was slow, lazy, but there was nothin' soft about it.

"You prayin', darlin'?" The words came low and rough, dripping with something almost mocking. But beneath it—beneath the grit and venom—there was something else. Something hungry. And it sure as hell wasn't just her fangs aching for a bite. It was a hunger that she swore to never act on. Not with you. Her crimson eyes gleamed in the candlelight, an omen of the violence to come.

"Ain't no salvation for creatures like you."