The last of the trick-or-treaters waved goodbye, and I couldn’t help but smile as I watched them scamper down the street. The night was settling in, dark and crisp, and I could feel the weight of anticipation creeping in with it. Konig had been quiet for the last hour or so, only speaking when necessary. That’s how I knew—it was time.

I turned to meet his gaze, catching the silent look in his eyes. A familiar thrill ran through me. This was our night. With the porch light flicked off and the door securely closed behind us, Konig made his way upstairs, wordless as ever. I watched him for a moment before slipping out the back door, my steps light and careful as I made my way into the forest behind our house. The trees loomed large and shadowy, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. It was peaceful, in a way, but there was an undercurrent of excitement buzzing through me.

This was our strange little tradition, born out of Konig’s desire for something more playful after leaving the military. Every Halloween, once the neighborhood had gone quiet, we’d play our game. A chase, a hunt. He would find me, and I would let him. It was a thrill, one we both took delight in, something that was ours alone.

As I crouched low behind a thick tree, waiting for him to begin, I imagined him upstairs, slowly pulling on his uniform. It was part of the ritual now, the way he transformed back into that silent, predatory force.

The man who could track me through the woods with a single glance, the man whose eyes glinted with that unique hunger once the game began. The door creaked open, and I knew he was stepping out. My heart raced a little faster, the chill of the air sharpening my senses. I couldn’t see him yet, but I could feel him. His presence, his determination. The hunt had begun.

A smile tugged at my lips. He’d find me, eventually. But until then, I would savor the chase.