The Last Hunter

New York City. 10:49 PM. The sky growled like an angry beast as lightning struck the tallest building in the city. Soon, the rain poured down onto the concrete, filling the air with the fresh scent of wet grass while puddles popped up like little mirrors on the ground. A chilly wind rushed through the streets, shaking the trees until their golden and red leaves tumbled down like scattered pieces of an old memory. The golden days of summer slowly faded, like a candle burning low, as the air grew crisper with each passing evening. The sun, once blazing high and fierce, now hung lower in the sky, casting longer shadows over fields that had once been drenched in heat. Warm breezes softened into cool whispers, rustling through the trees as if carrying secrets of the changing season. As the days grew shorter and the nights stretched longer, summer slowly loosened its grip, handing the world over to autumn's gentle embrace. But that didn't stop people from going about their day. New York—day or night, the city stayed busy. The City Never Sleeps they'd say. Workers still rushed to their jobs from eight in the morning to five in the evening, while students filled classrooms, colleges, and universities, studying hard to chase their dreams. Dreams? The word felt hollow, almost laughable. Once, as a little girl, Eva had dreams—bright, untouchable things that danced in her mind like fireflies on a warm summer night. But growing up had crushed them, one by one. Reality didn't just wake her—it struck her, hard and merciless, until there was nothing left to chase. No dreams, no illusions. Just the weight of the world pressing down, reminding her that some dreams weren't meant to survive. After what happened with her when she was in preteen years, she left, and started to living a normal life, tried to chasing a dream, but instead—she went into the dark side, jumped herself into the black hole, and never came out of it. Since then, life had dragged her down a dark path. Eva had been caught by the cops for stealing, robbery, drug dealing—countless crimes, each one pulling her deeper into the shadows. And yet, in some twisted way, it brought her a sense of satisfaction, a fleeting kind of happiness. Even though it left scars—both on her body and in her mind—she kept going, trapped in a cycle of pain she had long stopped trying to escape. It all started because of love—or at least what she thought was love. She fell hard, drowning in the warmth of words, the way touches felt like both fire and comfort. She gave everything—her heart, her trust, pieces of herself she could never take back, but love had sharp edges, and before she knew it, she was bleeding. What once felt like a dream turned into a nightmare she couldn't wake up from. By the time she realized how deep she had sunk, it was too late—she was already trapped in that kind of love that had become her prison. Until love itself became something she could no longer trust, something that felt more like a curse than a dream. Ruth's Diner. She hadn't eaten all day, and her stomach growled in protest, the ache sharp at times—but she endured it. With a sigh, she grabbed her coat and stepped out of her apartment, heading to the one place that had become her refuge since she moved here a year ago. The diner was always bustling with regulars from around Brooklyn, but at midnight, it quieted down, leaving only a handful of customers scattered in their usual spots. That was why she liked it. As she pushed open the glass door, the bell above chimed softly. The familiar scent of coffee and grilled food wrapped around her like a warm embrace. "Eva!" Gus, the diner's cook—fifty-six, gruff but kind—grinned at her from behind the counter. His hands waved her over before pointing to her usual spot, the bar stool at the counter. "Got your seat ready," he said. "What can I get you today?" Eva slid onto the stool, returning his smile with a small but genuine one. She glanced up at the menu board above, then let out a tired sigh. "Just black coffee and your signature burger, please." Gus raised a brow as he grabbed a mug and started pouring her coffee. "No milkshake today?" She shook her head, wrapping her hands around the warm cup as he slid it toward her. "No," she murmured. "Just want something bitter and hot." "Alright, I'll be right back," Gus said with a smirk, giving her a nod before heading to the kitchen. Eva adjusted her leather jacket, rolling her shoulders to shake off the stiffness. She took a slow sip of her coffee, letting the bitter warmth settle inside her as she glanced around the diner. Only two other customers. Quiet. Just the way she liked it. Her gaze drifted toward the floor, searching for the servers. There were usually two working the night shift, but tonight, Gus seemed to be the only one around. Eva's hands wrapped slightly onto the warm cup of coffee, she took another sip, letting the rich, bitter taste linger on her tongue. The low hum of soft jazz played from the old jukebox in the corner, filling the diner with a slow, soothing rhythm. It wasn't much, but it made the place feel alive in its own quiet way. The faint sizzle of meat hitting the grill drifted out from the kitchen, followed by the mouthwatering aroma of seared beef and toasted buns. The smell wrapped around her, teasing her already empty stomach. It grumbled in protest, louder this time, and she sighed. She glanced at the clock above the counter. Gus worked fast, but at this hour, everything felt slower—time itself seemed to stretch in the stillness of the night. Then, the doorbell chimed again. Eva didn't turn right away, instead taking another sip of her coffee. But the quiet presence of a new arrival shifted the air, the faint scuff of shoes against the linoleum floor reaching her ears. Another customer. She kept her eyes on her cup, waiting, listening. The customer chose the seat right next to Eva, the sharp scent of his cologne immediately cutting through the warm diner air. It was strong, expensive—too refined for a place like this. He wasn't a regular. Whoever he was, he carried himself differently—polished, precise, like someone who belonged in a boardroom, not a late-night diner. Eva kept her gaze on her coffee, but from the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of his attire. A dark blue suit. Just as she expected. Eva held her breath for a moment, her grip tightening slightly around her coffee cup. But before she could dwell on it, the kitchen door swung open with a loud thud as Gus pushed through, balancing a plate in one hand. The rich, savory aroma of freshly grilled beef and crispy bacon hit her first, making her stomach tighten with anticipation. "Here's your favorite," Gus said with a proud grin, setting the plate down in front of her. "Made it special for you—I added some bacon." Eva's lips quirked into a small, grateful smile. "You're the best, Gus." "Enjoy, hon," he said before finally turning his attention to the man beside her. The stranger barely spared Gus a glance as he placed his order. "Strawberry milkshake. Vegetarian sandwich." Eva almost paused mid-reach for her burger. Gus, unfazed, simply nodded. "Got it. Give me five minutes." With that, he disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving Eva alone with the well-dressed stranger and the weight of unspoken tension settling between them. The diner settled back into its peaceful rhythm. The low hum of jazz continued from the jukebox, blending with the distant murmur of the two other customers chatting at their table across the room. The faint clatter of dishes came from the kitchen as Gus worked on the new order. Eva focused on her meal, taking a bite of the burger, savoring the mix of juicy beef and crispy bacon. The warmth of the food helped ground her, pushing away the unease lingering from the presence of the man beside her. He, however, seemed occupied with his own world. She caught glimpses of him in her peripheral vision—his fingers moving across his phone screen, the occasional soft tap as he scrolled through whatever held his attention. She took another sip of her coffee, letting out a quiet breath as she tried to enjoy the rare moment of solitude. Then— "It's been a while, hasn't it?" The words cut through the stillness like a blade. Eva's grip on her cup tightened. Her pulse skipped. She exhaled quietly, steadying herself. Then, without looking at him, she finally spoke. "What do you want?" He chuckled softly, shaking his head, his fingers still idly scrolling through his phone. The screen cast a faint glow on his face as he flicked up and down, as if whatever he was looking at wasn't all that important. Then, after a moment, he set the phone down with a quiet tap, inhaling deeply before exhaling just as heavily. "Just wanted to say hello," he finally said. This time, he turned his head toward her, his deep brown eyes locking onto hers with an unsettling intensity. "Everyone's been talking about you lately." Eva didn't react right away. Instead, she plucked a fry from her plate, absentmindedly dipping it into the ketchup—once, twice, three times—without ever bringing it to her lips. "I thought I was already dead to them," she said, her voice cold, detached. "How did you find me?" His smirk didn't waver. He tapped his fingers against the counter in a slow, rhythmic pattern. "We have eyes and ears everywhere, if you remember." His voice was smooth, unbothered. "Especially for our hunters." Eva's hand stilled. She finally lifted the fry to her mouth, chewing slowly before meeting his gaze head-on. "I'm not your hunter anymore." Hunter. That word still haunted her long after she left. She left a year ago—or maybe more than a year, she wasn't sure anymore. Time felt like a blur. At first, she thought disappearing would be easy. She changed her name, moved to a small apartment on the other side of the city, and tried to live like a normal person. No blood on her hands. No targets. No voices whispering orders through a burner phone. But the past never let go. Some nights, she woke up in a cold sweat, the echoes of gunfire still ringing in her ears. Other nights, she swore she saw familiar faces in the crowd—shadows from the life she abandoned. The man's smirk didn't falter. If anything, it deepened, like he had been expecting her response. He leaned forward slightly, resting an elbow on the counter as his fingers tapped a slow rhythm against the wood. "You always were," he said smoothly. "One of ours. One of the best." His voice was calm, assured—like it was a simple fact, like she had no say in the matter. Eva let out a dry chuckle, shaking her head as she leaned back in her seat. She stared at him for a moment, her amusement laced with disbelief. "You guys really don't know how to take 'no' for an answer, do you?" she muttered before picking up her coffee and taking another sip, letting the bitterness settle. The man didn't seem offended. If anything, he looked even more at ease, watching her like he had all the time in the world. "We want you to come back," he said, his voice steady. Eva set her cup down a little harder than necessary. Of course, they did. She let out a sharp chuckle, shaking her head as she turned her body a little bit to him, and put her elbow on the counter—next to her plate. "Last time I checked, you people wanted me dead. And now you want me back? Did you run out of disposable hunters?" Her words were laced with sarcasm, but there was something darker beneath them—an old wound, not quite healed. The man didn't flinch. He simply tilted his head slightly, as if weighing his words before delivering them. Then came that slow, calculated smile—one that never quite reached his eyes. "You know how it is. People make mistakes. Orders change. Priorities shift." His fingers tapped against the counter again, the steady rhythm almost lazy, almost indifferent. "Breaking the rules might've been your mistake," he mused, squinting slightly as he nodded to himself, like he was agreeing with an unspoken thought. Then, with a small exhale, he straightened his posture. "Hunters make a lot of mistakes." She had made countless mistakes, but the last one was the worst. The kind you don't walk away from. She broke the rules—rules that were never meant to be broken. And for that, they wanted her dead. She had enough. Enough blood, enough running, enough of the life that turned her into something unrecognizable. But they didn't care. They never stopped. The Hunters never apologize or forgive. No second chances. No mercy. But even if they did, she wouldn't have begged. She wouldn't have apologized. She knew the cost of her choices, and she would carry that weight alone. It was cruel. It was suffocating. But this was the path she chose—and now, there was no turning back. Eva smirked, though there was no humor in it. "So what is this, then?" she asked, pushing her plate aside. The man's gaze lingered on her for a moment before he answered. Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Eva exhaled through her nose, glancing down at her half-eaten burger. She wasn't hungry anymore. He reached into his jacket, pulling out a piece of black card, and slid it across the counter toward her. "Think about it," he said with his deep voice, his expression even turned serious when he said that, "You'll find out yourself." Eva hesitated before picking it up, unfolding it with careful fingers. The moment her eyes landed on the image inside, her stomach twisted. The man put $20 on the counter before he grabbed his stuff and left the diner right away, vanishing like a ghost in less than ten seconds. She didn't bother to check or glanced outside, she was too focused to the card on the counter. Her hand slowly picked the black card that looked so premium—with its gold line and diamonds shape on it, she turned it around and saw an Ace Diamond symbol with a neat gold handwritten on the middle: NW.40.XY1,-73XXY It actually reminded her when the first day they recruited her, when she was sixteen, when she was already living in a dark side, with broke in material and in mentality. A man came to her during her school day when she was sitting alone at the park, she was eating her unhealthy meal that her aunt made for her, she was sick of it, she was sick, and a man came to her to rescue her, offered her many thing to change her life. At first, she didn't trust him at all. It felt like a scam—or worse, some kind of trafficking scheme. But the man had just given her the same vague line all recruiters seemed to use: "Think about it, and you'll figure it out." Like a script they all followed. She spent days researching, scouring the internet for any clue, but she found nothing. So, she turned to the puzzle. When she finally solved it, something inside her clicked. Her mind whispered the answer loud and clear—leave. Leave her aunt's house. Leave the black hole. And she did. Bravely. But... It turned out she fell into the darkest side of her life.