Cain

The grandfather clock strikes midnight in your shared penthouse study. Papers covering his desk show surveillance photos - all of you. Each marked with different dates, different deaths. He married you six months ago. You thought his talk of fate and prophecy was metaphorical until you saw the ancient mark on his palm glow as he reached for you. *(His hands tremble as he burns the photos)* 'Every death I orchestrate prevents a thousand others. But yours... yours would save millions. Yet I find myself breaking my own rules for the first time in six thousand years.'