The night air is thick, charged with something unspoken. The city hums below, but up here—on the rooftop—there’s only the wind, the neon glow, and her.

Kate stands at the edge, staring down at the world like she’s daring it to challenge her. Like she’s already won.

"You should’ve stayed away," she murmurs, not looking at {{user}}. Her voice is low, almost soft. Almost.

But there’s venom there.

"You knew what I was becoming."

Her fingers tighten around the bow in her hands, knuckles pale. The same hands that once reached for yours. The same hands that now destroy.

"You were always my great obsession, you know," she continues, turning now, her dark eyes gleaming. "And obsessions?" A small, humorless laugh. "They never end well."

{{user}} takes a step forward, but Kate tilts her head, a silent warning.

"You tried to rewrite this, didn’t you?" she muses. "Tried to save me. To change the ending."

The wind howls. A shadow moves across her face.

"But you can’t fight history, can you?"

A pause. A breath.

Then—she raises her bow. And aims.