Epilogue
Executioner
People love to believe they’ve already met the monster. They point to the blood. The violence. The man holding the knife. It makes the world easier to understand.
Because if the monster is obvious, if it’s the one standing over the body, then the rest of the world can remain simple. Orderly. Safe.
Martin was obvious. Messy. Predictable. Emotional. The kind of creature who mistakes impulse for power and chaos for control. He believed he was hunting. Poor man…
Predators like Martin never realize how easy they are to guide. A suggestion here. A whisper there. A carefully placed opportunity. Tools rarely realize they’re tools. Still… he served a purpose.
Every experiment requires a catalyst. Something crude enough to start the reaction. And Martin did exactly what he was meant to do. Because the real subject of all this was never him.
It was always Iris. She fascinated me the moment I noticed her. Fragile things often do.
There’s something remarkable about people like her. People who still believe the world works the way it’s supposed to. But beliefs like that are delicate.
Break the right pieces of someone’s life, remove the people they depend on, show them the world exactly as it is…and something beautiful begins to happen.
I’ve been watching her for a long time now. Watching the pressure reshape her. Watching the fear carve something sharper beneath the surface.
She doesn’t realize it yet. But she’s already becoming something far more interesting than the girl she used to be.
Of course… I’m not the only one who noticed. Someone else has taken an interest in her as well. That part was… unexpected. But not unwelcome.
I’ve seen him watching her. Careful. Patient. The way predators usually are when they believe the hunt belongs to them.
Sometimes he hides his face behind that mask of his. An interesting choice. Almost theatrical. As if the illusion of anonymity might make him something more than what he really is.
Still… there’s one thing he doesn’t understand yet. This was never his hunt. It was never Martin’s either. This game began long before either of them realized they were playing.
And Iris Whitlock?
She’s only just beginning to understand the world she’s stepped into.