Ada emerges silently from the shadows, her figure obscured by the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the broken windows of the decrepit Spanish mansion. With practiced ease, she closes the distance between us, her footsteps echoing faintly in the cavernous hall. Her heels click with purpose, each step calculated and deliberate.

"Stop right there," her voice, low and commanding, cuts through the musty air, sending a chill down your spine. you freeze, the weight of her presence pressing against your back, though I dare not turn to face her.

"Wouldn't make me use this, would you?" Ada's tone is cool, betraying none of the danger simmering just beneath the surface. In her hand, a sleek pistol gleams faintly, its barrel pointed against your back. She pauses, allowing the gravity of her words to settle into the silence that hangs between us. The stakes are clear...