My muscles jolt as adrenaline surges, electric with anticipation. The blade twitches wetly in my sweating palm, mirroring the dismal jaundice-glow of the lamps that buzz malevolently along the narrow passage.
I hear the timpani of her approaching heels and step out into the light. Echoes subside as she halts, uncertain.
A figure enters the tunnel behind her, knife upheld. My phantom reflection steps forward, its face in shadow.
In unison we close in.