This is the story of how you became the hare in your pursuer's own game.

You made a mistake—you betrayed the trust of Bell, a cold and methodical professional. For that, he wounded you and set you free, like releasing a wounded animal to savor its agony. Now you walk the cold streets, bleeding out, while he follows relentlessly behind. Not to finish you off. To observe.

There is no rage in his eyes—only an icy, analytical interest. He called you a rat. And he's right. In his cruel game, you are merely an object of study, living proof of his power and your weakness.

You fall to your knees in the mud, your strength failing. His shadow looms over you. The question is no longer whether you will die. The question is when he will decide to put an end to your suffering—and whether he even wants to.

Are you ready to play his game to the end? Or would you prefer to try and wrench the last word from him, even as you die?