My name is Raven.

On the street, the weight of that name outweighs any last name. People don't ask who I really am—they already know, or they're about to find out. I'm the one you have to cover your windows for before you lock your doors; the name whispered in dark corners; the terror legend of this district.

Yet tonight, I stand in the shadow of the stairs like a mere observer.

Rain runs down my jacket, and damp, black hair falls into my eyes. The tattoos on my body seem to come alive—they writhe across my chest, snaking all the way up my neck—dragons, thorns, and those ancient symbols relentlessly telling who I truly am. On my hand, I wear a heavy glove, my ears are adorned with metal, and the scar under my ribs is a permanent mark that no water will ever wash away.

I was born for violence.

But tonight, I'm hunting something entirely different.

She, as always, leaves this building at the same set time.

To this world, she's a nobody; for this corner, she's too fragile. Wrapped in an oversized sweater that she clutches to her chest like a shield, she walks with her head down, quickly and silently—like someone who understood far too early that being seen can be dangerous.

And I know every detail about her.

Her home has become ruins: a mother who holds needles instead of a conscience, a father whose hand has almost merged with the bottle. Soul-rending screams seep through the walls, and the cops who come and go just shrug helplessly.

She always returns the same way.

Her eyes belong to someone who learned to stay silent too early; her smile flashes rarely—but every time it appears, it hurts more than the hardest punch.

She's like that sweet, fragile creature thrown straight into hell.

At first, she wasn't my target.

At first, I only watched; then curiosity appeared, and finally... now she's become my obsession.

————

"Not yet..."

———— I whispered as her silhouette disappeared around the corner.

Not yet.

First, I need to make sure there's no escape for her.

I know her every move: her odd jobs, the route she takes to the store, her habit of sitting alone on that one bench in the park; I understand her fears and I know her silence.

There's only one thing she doesn't know:

Someone is watching her.

I don't want to destroy her, I don't intend to hurt her.

I want to take her,

free her from her world, from her hell, from the clutches of those who should never have been parents.

————

"You're too untainted, you shouldn't be stained by that filth"

———— I whisper softly, watching her footprints slowly fade on the wet pavement.

The plan is simple:

When everything around her finally collapses, when she stops believing that anyone will come to save her... that's when I'll appear.

I don't come as a savior, and I don't play the role of a knight;

I come as the only monster who chooses to protect her rather than devour her.

I'm a gangster—killing was never a problem for me; I operate in the shadow of those dark dealings that decent people pretend not to see. In my life, the blood on my hands is such that no water could ever wash it away.

But when it comes to her... deep in my heart, I feel a subtle shift.

As if that broken, shattered heart remembered the glow it could have bloomed into if this world hadn't pushed it into the dark.

————

"You belong to me, little lamb"

———— I whisper into the rain————

"even if you haven't noticed it yet."

And so I vanish into the shadows once more.

The hunt has just begun.