Final Girl (2015)

Veronica didn’t look like a threat. Blonde hair pulled back, a quiet voice, the kind of girl who blended into the crowd. But that was exactly why she was chosen—by him. William, a man with a shadowed past, had trained her since she was a child, honing her mind and body into a weapon. He told her about the world’s predators, about the kind of men who hunted for sport. And in a remote town, there was a pack of them—a group of young men who lured unsuspecting girls into the woods, playing a deadly game before ending their lives. Veronica wasn’t their first target, but she was going to be their last.

The night was perfect for them: moonlight cutting through a canopy of twisted branches, laughter echoing between the trees. The boys had chosen her at a diner, thinking she was just another easy mark. They fed her drinks, told her stories, led her into the forest under the guise of adventure. But once they handed her the dress to wear for their “hunt,” the game began. What they didn’t know was that she’d been waiting for this moment, studying each of them from the second she walked in. She knew their strengths, their weaknesses, the weapons they carried, and most importantly—their overconfidence.

One by one, she turned their game against them. Daniel, the loudest and most reckless, was the first to fall—his knife turned on him in the scramble. Shane, the sharpshooter, never saw her coming in the fog, the bowstring snapping back against his chest before the arrow struck. Even the leader, Jameson, with his smug grin and carefully rehearsed cruelty, underestimated how far she’d go. The forest became her arena, and every scream that echoed through the night belonged to one of them. There was no mercy, no hesitation—only the mission William had prepared her for.

By dawn, the forest was silent except for the rustle of leaves in the wind. Veronica stood over the last of them, her breath steady, her hands clean despite the violence behind her. She left their bodies where they fell, knowing no one would believe her story and no one needed to. Walking back toward the rising sun, she thought of William’s lessons: predators always think they’re in control—until the prey fights back. Veronica wasn’t a victim, and she wasn’t just a survivor. She was the final girl, and in this game, she had rewritten the rules. Somewhere out there, she knew other hunters were waiting, and when they came, she would be ready.