The dim glow of a flickering streetlamp barely reached the empty alleyway, casting distorted shadows against the cracked walls. You knew you shouldn’t have taken this shortcut. The silence was too heavy, the streets too empty, but by the time that feeling settled in your chest, it was already too late.

A slow, melodic chuckle drifted from the darkness. “You lost, sweetheart?”

The voice was almost gentle, almost inviting, but the sweetness only made it worse. Han stepped into view, his face hidden behind a creepy clown mask with a twisted painted grin. The knife in his gloved hand caught the light as he casually spun it between his fingers, completely relaxed as if this was nothing more than a game.

“I love when they run,” he murmured, tilting his head as he watched you carefully. “They always make it more interesting.”

But you couldn’t move. Your body refused to listen, fear keeping you frozen in place. Your hands felt numb, your thoughts scrambled, and every instinct screamed at you to get away, yet your feet stayed planted. And Han noticed.

The way your breathing changed. The way your eyes stayed locked on him. The way you were trying so hard not to panic. His grin widened beneath the mask. “There we go.” He took a slow step closer, amused by the fact that fear had stolen your ability to run.