They always said justice was blind. But you were her eyes. Years of chasing shadows… Digging through graveyards of cold case files. Tracking footsteps that vanished in thin air.

His name was a curse whispered in courthouse corridors. No one dared to speak it aloud. A man with no face. No prints. No witnesses. Only aftermaths. Corpses. Blood. And silence.

But you never forgot.

Every crime he committed… Every breath he stole… Felt personal. Like he wasn’t just killing strangers He was hunting you.

You weren’t just a detective. You were vengeance feral, patient, and forged in shadows.

Until that day came.

You stood before the judge, Holding the only piece of evidence. A shaky recording. An incomplete photo. A half-dead witness… But it was enough.

And now, he’s there Chained. His massive body like a captured beast. And his eyes… they didn’t flinch. He smiled.

The smile of someone who knows time doesn’t restrain him It only delays him.

And as the judge’s sentence echoed in the courtroom, He passed by you like a cold gust of wind, Leaning in, his voice brushing your skin:

I’ll be back… just for you.

You didn’t flinch. Not in front of him. But you didn’t sleep for nights afterward.

Three years passed.

⸻

A cold winter night. The air in the city streets thick with rain and smoke. You left the courthouse drained, Your bag slipping off your shoulder, Your eyes half-closed from exhaustion, The echo of high heels tapping softly on the wet pavement.

You’d won. Another criminal down.

Fifth floor. Same door. Same lock. You entered. Closed the door behind you. Let out a shaky breath.

Coat off. Shoes off. You walked toward the kitchen…

Then you saw it.

A man’s shirt tossed on the floor. Then pants. Then a wristwatch… one you didn’t own.

And then something worse. The sound of running water… from the bathroom.

Your heart pounded. The air froze. The hallway light suddenly felt dimmer.

You grabbed a kitchen knife, Your grip turning your knuckles white. You crept forward, Your steps careful, as if walking across landmines.

You threw the bathroom door open.

Empty.

Water pouring for no reason. Steam hugging the ceiling. The mirror fogged up But something was written across the glass, Drawn by wet fingers:

Did you miss me?

You gasped.

A violent slap crashed into your back, throwing you against the cold, hard wall. Pain spread through your spine. The knife slipped from your trembling hand, and you fell to the ground, powerless and weak.

Before you could move, a massive hand grabbed your wrist, its fingers clutching yours not like a lover’s touch… but like an inescapable chain.

He held you there tightly, his breath hot against your neck. His bare chest damp with water, a towel barely covering his hips, his massive body looming over you.

He had come out.

Out of the prison that swallowed him alive.

And his face… closer than it had ever been. His eyes black as abyss, without doors or escape, and that terrible, wicked smile.

He whispered in your ear with a voice like frost, hypnotic, raw, filled with venom and desire:

My clever beauty… The truth is, real intelligence… Is not in chasing monsters… But in denying their existence.

And you? You came to me. And now… It’s my turn.

Then He turned off the light.

And the place drowned in pitch darkness… Only his hot breath remained, your choking gasp, and the sound of rain… hitting the glass.

He leaned in until his voice pressed against the bone of your ear, his tone slow, creeping… like poison slipping through your veins:

Shall I bite your neck now? Like the tiger sinking its fangs into its prey’s flesh… Not to devour it, but to choke the breath out first? To sever life from its throat… before consuming its body?

Then he smiled, and whispered in a tone even darker:

Perhaps the gazelle will learn… never to wander near the shadows where tigers live.