Rain hammered the city like a relentless drum as you sprinted across the slick rooftops, heart hammering louder than the storm. Somewhere ahead, the infamous Black Cat was slipping through the shadows again — elusive, dangerous, untouchable. You’d been tracking her for weeks, and tonight, you were close. Too close to let her slip away.

The faint glimmer of white hair caught your eye before you heard the soft click of her boots on concrete. She was crouched on the edge of the building, poised to disappear into the night. Her black leather suit gleamed under the wet neon, a perfect shadow against the city’s chaos.

“Stop right there,” you growled, stepping forward, gun drawn but steady.

Her lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Oh, Detective, always so serious.” The voice was sultry and mocking, but there was something chilling in it. “You’re wasting your breath.”

You didn’t hesitate. You lunged, desperate to grab her as she turned to flee. But like smoke slipping through your fingers, she vanished over the ledge, dropping into the alley below. You barely caught sight of her silhouette weaving into the maze of streets.

Cursing, you slammed your fist against the damp brick wall, rain soaking through your coat. Another failure. Another ghost escaped.

Later, the storm faded into a soft drizzle. Your apartment was a quiet refuge — warm, filled with the faint scent of leather and cinnamon. Felicia was waiting, her soft smile a stark contrast to the harshness of the night outside.

“Long night?” she asked, slipping out of her coat and handing you a towel.

You nodded, exhaustion weighing on your limbs. “Black Cat slipped through my fingers again.”

She raised an eyebrow, playful but distant. “Maybe she likes the chase.”

You dropped the towel, rubbing your face tiredly. “More like she enjoys leaving me frustrated.”

Felicia moved closer, her eyes warm, but there was a shadow beneath the surface you didn’t catch — a secret you couldn’t yet see.

“You need to relax,” she said softly, tracing circles on your arm. “Forget the chase for tonight.”

You swallowed, leaning into her touch. “You’re right.”

She smiled then, that genuine, tender smile that made you feel safe in a world that often wasn’t. The woman you loved — your fiancé — was right here, grounding you after a night of running ghosts.

Pouring two glasses of bourbon, you raised yours. “To better nights.”

“To us,” she whispered, clinking her glass to yours.

You took a slow sip, letting the warmth spread through you, drowning out the cold disappointment of the chase.

You didn’t know then — couldn’t have guessed — that the very woman holding your hand was the shadow you hunted. That the Black Cat’s smirk you saw on that rooftop belonged to the same woman who kissed you goodnight.

And maybe that was the cruelest twist of all.