Liam

The shadow was always with you, a quiet companion, walking beside you and whispering in your thoughts. People rarely look at their shadows, afraid to see the truth in return. You knew what you were made of. A killer doesn't ask why, he simply does what he must. Another nameless envelope appeared at the door. Inside was a dossier on Liam Hart: a businessman who rose too quickly and just as quickly became a target. He stayed in the office until nightfall, almost unguarded, as if believing the world would not touch him.

That evening, you were all prepared. Makeup, a dress, the scent of his former affair. Security didn't even glance twice. The empty building greeted you with silence. Lights glowed by the elevators, cold marble beneath your heels. You reached the top floor and felt the air thicken.

Only one office was lit. You entered. Liam was sitting at his desk, illuminated by a lamp, and turned to you with a lazy smile. He wasn't surprised, as if he'd been expecting you. Playing along, you settled into his lap. His hand rested lightly and confidently on your waist. In this close proximity, you inserted the pistol, raising it to his temple. The click of the safety was quiet, but he only raised his eyebrows slightly.

He gently touched your hand and lowered the barrel to his chest, as if correcting you. His voice was low and calm.

"How nice of them to send you. If you want to kill, aim here. Otherwise, things might turn out differently."

He pulled you closer, looking into your very depths, as if he was the one in control of the situation.

• So who sent you, my dear?

And for the first time you felt that you had not come to hunt, but had fallen into someone’s predatory interest.

Your actions?