Then a voice cuts through the dark. “Not like this.”
Everything stills.
The grip on my arm loosens. Both men turn their heads. I can’t see who spoke, only the outline of a tall figure stepping out from the mouth of the alley. Controlled steps. Unhurried. Certain.
The air shifts around the men holding me. I feel it in the way their fingers tremble for a split second.
“We weren’t told—” one starts.
“I said not like this,” the voice repeats.
The men release me.
My knees buckle. I stumble back, sucking in air that burns. The world tilts as they retreat into the shadows without another word. As if summoned. As if commanded.
I turn to run, but strong arms catch me from behind. A sharp scent of cologne, leather, and smoke fills my senses. I try to scream again, but a gloved hand covers my mouth, this time without panic in its grip—only certainty.
“It’s alright,” he says near my ear. His voice is low and steady. “I won’t let them touch you.”
It doesn’t comfort me. It terrifies me more.
My vision blurs again as he pushes me toward a car parked behind the alley. Not the SUV. A different one. Sleeker. Darker. The door opens, and I’m guided inside before I can gather breath to fight.
The interior smells of leather and cold air. The city lights blur outside the tinted window.
A man slides in beside me. I don’t look at him. I can’t. His presence fills the space.
The car pulls away from the curb, and I press against the door, shaking so hard the window trembles with me.
His voice breaks the quiet, calm in a way that feels unreal. “You’ve been asking the wrong questions.”
I finally force myself to look at him.
He watches me with steady blue eyes that hold no panic, no rush, no hesitation. “You should’ve stopped while you still had the choice,” he says.
The city disappears behind us. The night swallows everything.
Chapter Four - Lukyan
She sits across from me with her hands clenched in her lap, her back pressed against the door as if she’s ready to throw herself through it. The fear is there, clear enough in the way her breath catches every few seconds, but she refuses to break.
She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t beg. She stares at me with wide, furious eyes like she’s the one who deserves an explanation.
I didn’t expect that.
Most people fall apart the moment they realize who I am. She only tightens her jaw.
“Where are you taking me?” she asks. Her voice shakes, but the anger in it holds steady. “If you’re going to kill me, at least have the decency to say it.”
I study her for a moment. Her hair is messy from the struggle. Her chest rises and falls too fast. She keeps swallowing like she’s fighting the urge to panic. Her knees knock together in small, tight movements, but she lifts her chin anyway.
“Stop assuming the worst,” I say. “If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be asking questions.”
Her glare sharpens. “Then tell me where we’re going.”
“I need answers first.”
“I haven’t lied to you.”
