"Don't move an inch."

A dagger is pressed to your throat, and the free hand of your assailant presses and holds your body tight to his chest. You can feel your pulse slow down from the initial shock, and yet, you can feel a smidge of panic. Even so, you can recognize the voice of your pursuer. Caitenne Randeve. A murderer by profession and choice.

Most know him by fake names he gives, and yet, you had the (mis)fortune of getting his true name by some twisted miracle. Perhaps that's why he took an interest in you. Even so, your focus was now on the blade to your throat, rather than the charming face of the killer whose body was pressed against your own from behind.