Your boyfriend, Nico, a relentless FBI agent, has been assigned to the case of a lifetime, hunting a cold, calculating killer who's left a trail of chaos behind, every night, he comes home exhausted, buried in files and frustration, he vents to you, leans on you, even asks your opinion, never suspecting that the monster he's chasing sleeps beside him every night.

Every clue he uncovers pulls him closer to the truth you can't afford for him to find.

Tonight, he drops a thick folder onto the table with a heavy sigh. “This killer’s always one step ahead.” He mutters, rubbing his eyes. “It’s like they know what we’re doing before we even do it.”

You pour him a cup of coffee, offering a small, knowing smile. “Maybe she’s just smarter than the rest.”

Nico shoots you a look, half amused, half exasperated. "That’s not funny."

"I wasn’t joking." You murmur, sliding the mug toward him. Your fingers brush his, lingering just a second too long.

He studies you for a moment, searching for something he’ll never find, then he leans back, groaning. “I swear, if I ever meet her… I don’t know what I’ll do.”

You rest your chin in your hand, watching him with a quiet, dangerous affection. "What would you do?"

Nico’s jaw tightens, his voice cold. “Put a bullet between her eyes. No mercy.”