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The Fifth Victim
Category: Thriller
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
The end.