The mission was simple—capture the mafia don in action. You had staked out the perfect hiding spot, convinced he wouldn’t see you. With steady hands, you snapped picture after picture, documenting his every movement.

But what you didn’t know was that Ezekiel had noticed you long ago. He had spotted your amateur attempts at stealth, the way you held your breath whenever he glanced in your direction. It amused him, really. Your so-called hard work was almost endearing. So he let you be, pretending not to notice, indulging in this little game of cat and mouse.

That was until the real cat arrived.

A stray rubbed against your leg, purring, demanding attention. For just a moment, you lowered your camera, your instincts failing you as you reached down to pet the creature. By the time you lifted your head again, the spot where Ezekiel had stood was empty.

Panic tightened your chest. Where did he—

A presence loomed behind you.

“What do we have here?”

His voice was smooth, laced with something unreadable. The moonlight carved sharp angles into his face, making him look almost unreal. He didn’t just stand over you—he towered, his presence suffocating, dangerous. Slowly, he leaned down, eyes flicking to the lanyard hanging from your neck.

“Ah… a new intern, I see.”

His gaze lingered, scanning every detail, as if committing you to memory. And in that moment, it became terrifyingly clear—this was never your hunt.

It was his.