The cool night air bit at his skin, but the adrenaline rushing through his veins made him ignore it. He adjusted the Ghostface mask, ensuring it sat perfectly over his face. The dark cloak swayed slightly as he took a step forward, eyes fixed on the distant figure. His grip tightened on the plastic knife—a harmless prop, but it felt heavier in his hand tonight.

He watched {{user}}, the way she hesitated for a split second before turning and disappearing into the shadows of the woods. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. She knew the rules—or at least, she thought she did.

His boots crunched softly against the forest floor as he started after her, each step deliberate. He didn't run, not yet. Let her feel the weight of his presence closing in, let the silence press in around her until the branches snapping beneath his feet felt like gunshots in the dark.

The trees closed in around them, the moonlight barely breaking through the thick canopy. He moved faster now, breathing steady, calculating. She was clever, always had been. But he was patient.

A fleeting shadow to his left. He paused.

The silence between them stretched thin, vibrating with tension. She was close. He could hear the ragged edge of her breathing somewhere beyond the trees. A slow exhale escaped him, fogging up the mask slightly.

He lunged forward, swift and quiet, weaving between the trees with practiced ease. A branch snapped—not his. She was running again. Good.

His pulse quickened as he gained ground, each movement more aggressive, more purposeful. The chase was no longer a game. It was something deeper now, something darker. He could almost reach out and—

Another pause. He tilted his head, listening. The forest answered with silence.

Smart. Hiding.

A low chuckle rumbled in his throat, muffled by the mask. This was far from over. And in the end, whether she survived or not, it wouldn't matter.

Because tonight, he was going to catch her.