The Bloodstain Code

Chapter Four: The Target Approaches

Chapter Four: The Target Approaches

Night once again enveloped the city. Streets were slick, neon lights reflected off the wet pavement like scattered drops of blood. Ava Black stood at her apartment window, holding a blood sample, her fingertips slightly chilled with tension. Since last night’s alleyway blood incident, her mind had been unable to find peace—the killer not only existed, but was watching her, striking her psychological defenses with precision at every step.

“Are you sure you want to go alone?” Jack’s voice came from the doorway, holding a flashlight and a portable detection device.

Ava turned, her gaze firm. “I have to. Every time he strikes, it’s like he’s taunting me. If I don’t find him first, next time… the target could be me.”

Jack frowned. “Be careful, Ava. This is beyond a normal case—he’s not an ordinary serial killer.”

Ava didn’t answer. She held the blood sample in her palm, closing her eyes. Images flooded her mind again: the rainy alley, the victims screaming, the killer’s cold eyes, the glinting blade. Her ability allowed her to sense the killer’s next move—and the trajectory was horrifying; his next target was closing in on her.

“He’s approaching me,” Ava whispered, fear threading her voice.

Jack was silent for a moment. “Then we need to set up protection. His actions are unpredictable; tonight, he may come straight for you.”

Ava nodded, gripping the blood sample tighter. A pressure unlike any she had ever felt weighed on her—this killer not only had the memory of blood traces, he seemed to anticipate her every move. She knew tonight she would be forced into a direct confrontation.

They drove toward the alley where the blood had been found before. The post-rain streets were empty and silent, only distant neon lights flickering faintly, reflecting off the wet road. Ava crouched, fingers brushing the remaining bloodstains. Instantly, images in her mind became clearer than ever: the killer’s movements, the victim’s terror, the entire alley frozen in time, teetering on the edge of death.

“He’s waiting for the right moment,” Ava murmured, breathing quick, hands pale from gripping the blood vial.

Jack shone his flashlight into the depths of the alley—nothing but shadows—but Ava’s instincts told her danger was near. The air carried the scent of blood, an invisible signal blurring the line between hunter and prey.

“Ava, we need to set a defensive line,” Jack whispered. “If he appears suddenly, we need a fallback.”

Ava nodded, closing her eyes, fingers tracing the bloodstains. In her mind, she saw the killer moving deliberately, each step precisely where she had anticipated. His target was clear—her.

Suddenly, a faint sound came from deep in the alley. Ava’s eyes snapped open, heart pounding like thunder. Shadows flickered in the post-rain haze, seemingly controlled by some unseen force. She stepped back, nearly slipping on the wet ground.

“He’s here,” Ava whispered, tension raw in her voice.

Jack rushed forward, flashlight sweeping the alley—only swaying trash bags moved in the wind. The air was thick with pressure, as if death itself was closing in.

Ava took a deep breath, touching the blood sample to let the memories flood her mind again. The killer’s image sharpened; his eyes locked on her, seeming to pierce her soul. Each breath, each heartbeat, reminded her: danger was closing in.

“Tonight, he won’t hold back,” Ava muttered, every muscle in her body tense.

Jack frowned. “We have to be careful. He might try to lure you into a trap.”

Ava nodded, a flash of determination in her eyes. “I know. But if I back down, he’ll never stop.”

In the alley’s depths, rainwater trickled like streams, reflecting the blood-stained ground. Ava gripped the blood sample again, closing her eyes as images surged: the killer was drawing closer. She had to find a flaw in his next move—or all would be lost.

Time dragged cruelly. Rain pounded the pavement, sounding like a countdown. Ava felt the distance between herself and the killer shrinking; psychological pressure surged like a flood in her chest.

“Jack, I have to go in,” she said firmly. “I can sense him, somewhere in the alley. If I don’t act first, he’ll come straight for me.”

Jack nodded, a mix of worry and tension in his eyes. “I’ll go with you, but be careful—he’s not ordinary.”

Ava inhaled deeply, gripping the blood sample, and slowly moved deeper into the alley. The post-rain darkness felt like a bottomless abyss; the bloodstains shimmered faintly, guiding her—or signaling death.

Suddenly, a cold gust of wind blew, and a faint metallic clang came from the alley’s end. Ava stopped, fingers brushing the blood, as images of the killer’s movements surfaced—he was observing her reaction, savoring the psychological game.

“He’s close,” Ava whispered, every sense alert.

The air froze. Rain striking the blood-stained ground sounded sharp, as if warning her—the next move of the hunt was about to begin, and she was already the prey.

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