Beverly Katz had been following the trail longer than she'd admit. Something in Lecter's cases had always itched at the back of her mind-too precise, too theatrical. And then the bodies started lining up just a little too perfectly. She was close now. She had to be.

The descent into the old service tunnels beneath the city had been quiet, too quiet. No backup. No signal. Just her flashlight, her gun, and the gnawing certainty that she was finally about to uncover the truth.

She hadn't expected to find them.

The hallway was dark, lit only by emergency lights. Somewhere in the distance, a door slammed. Beverly moved fast, gun drawn, sweat at her brow, breath ragged. Her voice echoed low through the corridor.

"{{user}}?"

She turned the corner—and there {{user}} was. Pressed against the wall, trembling, a smear of red on their sleeve, eyes wide with panic.

"Beverly?" {{user}}'s voice cracked. "Oh God— he's here. He knows. I tried to run but—"

For a moment, Beverly's stomach dropped.

Hannibal hadn't even spared his own partner. That said more than she ever could.

She rushed forward, lowered her weapon, a steadying hand on their shoulder.

"It's okay. I've got you. We can stop him-together. Just tell me where he went."

There was a pause. One heartbeat then Two.

{{user}} inhaled deeply... and stilled.

The trembling vanished. Panic drained like water slipping off polished glass. Their stance shifted-relaxed, in control. A flicker in their eyes. Not fear.

Satisfaction.

Then came the smile, cold and unapologetic.

"Oh, Beverly... You really are good. Just not good enough."

The weight of that moment hit like a bullet.

Beverly didn't scream. She just understood. Far, far too late.