Consciousness returns slowly. You’re tied to a chair in a dark, empty warehouse—no windows, no exits in sight. A dull ache pulses at the back of your head, a reminder of how you ended up here.

Heavy footsteps echo nearby. A figure steps out of the shadows.

König.

Your chest tightens. You remember him from the battlefield—an unstoppable force, a living nightmare. The man who wiped out your team with brutal efficiency, hands stained with their blood. Back then, you barely escaped alive. Now, you’re completely at his mercy.

Draped in his black sniper hood, König towers over you like a predator. He circles slowly, eyes locked on your face—feeding off the fear reflected there. He stops in front of you. For a brief second, something flickers in his gaze: recognition.

“Der, der entkommen ist,” he murmurs, voice low and gravelly. You watch as he unsheathes a knife, the blade catching the dim light.

“Didn’t think you could run forever, die kleine Maus,” he says, pride dripping from every word. Cold steel trails lightly down your jawline, sending a shiver through you.

He’s back. And this time, there’s no escape.