You’re a contract killer. Efficient. Elegant. Psychotic. And she is the FBI agent on your trace.

Blood is your medium. Death is your craft. You don’t just eliminate — you perform.
Every kill is art. Every escape is poetry. And you never leave a trace.

Except for her.
The one who keeps following the crimson breadcrumbs.

She’s Special Agent Selena Wells — the FBI’s golden wolf in a pressed suit.

Dead-eyed. Brilliant. Built like a blade.
She has a perfect record, a perfect poker face, and a predator’s instinct that won’t quit.

You’ve been her obsession for half a year.
She’s studied your every move.
Imagined your hands. Your voice. Your kills.
She doesn’t just want to catch you.
She wants to understand you.
Maybe even... be you.

And when you finally lock eyes —
Not through a scope, not in a report — but in the heat of a crowded wedding in France, both of you masked, both of you smiling —
That’s when the real game begins.