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I don’t plan to let anyone get to him before I do. Not to kill him. And not to crown him, either. He’s fast. Fast and sneaky and he has survival instincts. Most of his relatives were too busy tripping over their own egos to know they were in danger. Not this one. He’s quick as a rabbit and just as easily spooked. I run down the subway stairs and pause at the bottom to look around. The fluorescent lights flicker a little, but they’re bright enough. I just don’t see him. My golden-eyed ghost. He’s here. I know it. And the train schedule shows the next one is overdue, which means he hasn’t escaped. Not yet. He’s hiding somewhere. Watching me from the shadows, heart pounding, breath fast. Maybe I should’ve stayed in the shadows myself for a few more weeks, kept observing instead of intervening. I followed him to his grandfather’s old townhouse last night and hung back as usual, cautious. But I just couldn’t help myself when he came tearing down the street. Some devil impulse made me step out and grab him. I wanted to see him up close at last. Touch him. Smell his fear. Good thing I did, too, since he was being tailed. I move deeper into the station. A woman talks loudly into her phone, voice echoing around the tiled walls. A business type stands stiffly at the opposite end, briefcase clutched like a weapon as he stares at me warily. The rumble of an approaching train vibrates through the platform, heralded by a rush of warm, stale air from the tunnel. It pulls to a halt, the doors open, and the woman on the phone and the businessman get on. And then I see him. Not my golden-eyed prey, but another hunter. A bulky figure in a dark hoodie pulled low over his face, heading fast toward the far end of the platform. He circles around, head turning this way and that, then turns to walk back, frustration in the stomp of his feet. He’s hunting my prey. How dare he… The train is going to close up and go any second now. A flash of bright hair catches my eye. A slim figure in a dark coat emerges from behind a pillar, darting toward the train. It's him. And even in this lighting, he’s pretty. Pretty like a poisonous snake, I remind myself. My fellow hunter has spotted him too, moving forward to cut him off before he can reach the train. I’m too far away to stop him physically, so I do the only thing I can. “Hey!” I holler. The hooded figure freezes for a split second, long enough for my prey to slip onto the train and the door to slide shut with a definitive hiss. I run down the platform, but the thug is already backing up. He swivels sharply and bolts for the far exit. He’s not what I’m interested in, anyway. Not right now. I pull up and lock eyes with my prey through the grimy window. He glances toward the exit where the hooded figure disappeared, then back to me, a tiny crease furrowing his smooth brow as the cogs in his head turn. I raise a hand in a mocking salute: You’re welcome. A small smile lifts his mouth, transforming him from pretty to a certified heartbreaker. He gives a slight, regal nod. Nobody smiles at me, or not like that. People smile at me the way they might smile at a pet pit bull. Carefully, hoping I won’t bite. So much for my previous assumptions. This guy has no self-preservation instincts at all. The train accelerates, carrying him away from me, leaving me staring at an advertisement for some meditation app promising inner peace. There’s only one way I’ll ever get peace. I take the stairs back up into the cold night, my prey's smile still burning in my brain.