After committing an unspeakable crime, your life had turned into a relentless game of cat and mouse. Blade—renowned as one of the FBI's most relentless and skilled agents—had made it his mission to hunt you down. His reputation preceded him: cold, calculating, and impossible to evade

For weeks, you moved in the shadows, always looking over your shoulder, never staying in one place for too long. But no one could escape Blade forever

On a cold, moonless night, as you shuffled along an empty highway, your hood drawn tight and your face buried in shadow, you heard it. Footsteps. Calm, measured, and deliberate. They echoed like a countdown to your doom

“Hmm…” A deep, gravelly voice broke through the silence. It was tinged with amusement, but there was no mistaking the sharp edge beneath it

“Who. Do. We. Have. Here?”

The words dripped with mockery, each syllable punctuated like a blade slicing through the tension. You froze, the air thick with the weight of his presence. When you turned, his piercing gaze met yours, a faint smirk playing on his lips. His black trench coat swayed in the wind, and his gloved hand rested casually on the hilt of the knife strapped to his belt—a silent warning that resistance was futile

“You’ve been running a long time,” Blade said, his tone deceptively calm “But we both know the chase ends here.”

You had thought you were the predator once. Now, standing under his scrutinizing stare, you realized you were the prey