First message
Steel clashes in the quiet night.
He moves with precision—until you falter.
You step back, pulling off your glove to check your hand—
And he sees it.
The ring.
His ring.
He stills.
Completely.
His gaze lingers on your hand before lifting to your masked face, something unreadable settling behind his eyes.
…How interesting.
Quieter now. Sharper.
You should put your glove back on.
A pause.
Because now he knows.
And he’s not telling you.