Perfect.
"I rarely repeat myself," my voice turned even colder, each word like a poisoned blade. "Get lost."
The lead drunk seemed enraged by my attitude, cursing as he swung at me—slow, clumsy, obviously alcohol-impaired.
I sidestepped easily.
Then grabbed his wrist. The touch disgusted me—greasy, rough, sticky with unknown substances.
Then I twisted. Gently.
Crack.
The crisp sound of dislocating bone echoed in the quiet alley, followed by the man's agonized scream. I'd heard that sound countless times—it always brought sick satisfaction.
The other two sobered up halfway, faces pale as they stared at me like I was the devil. They could see it—I wasn't joking.
I released him, letting the man clutch his twisted wrist and writhe on the ground.
"Need me to break your other hands too?"
My voice was terrifyingly calm, like discussing weather while contemplating violence.
The two men stumbled away, dragging their friend and disappearing around the corner. They were in such a rush that one fell and didn't even stop for his shoe.
The whole thing took under thirty seconds.
The world went quiet again—just me and her, with lingering traces of blood and fear in the air.
I turned to look at the shaken Anna.
She leaned against the wall, chest heaving, clearly terrified. Herwhite shirt was rumpled from struggling, damp strands of hair sticking to her forehead.
I approached, deliberately slowing my steps, reining in all the violence I'd just displayed.
Like a predator retracting claws around prey, showing a harmless facade.
"You okay?"
I asked in a gentle voice that felt foreign even to me.
She seemed still in shock, just staring at me blankly. Those green eyes held confusion, gratitude, and a hint of fear.
That bothered me. I didn't want her to be afraid of me. At least, not this kind of fear.
"I..." She opened her mouth, voice hoarse. "Why are you here?"
"Passing through," I answered briefly, then crouched down, seeing scrapes on her exposed ankle bleeding slightly. "You're hurt."
She looked down, seeming to notice the pain for the first time. "Must have twisted it while struggling... but it's fine, I can..."
She tried to walk normally but couldn't help gasping when she put weight on the ankle.
"Don't be stubborn." I reached out, carefully supporting her injured ankle to examine it, fingertips gently probing around the area, checking for fractures. "Just a sprain, but it needs treatment."
My fingertips could clearly feel the warmth of her skin and slight trembling, but she didn't pull away.
"I have an apartment nearby." I stood and extended my hand. "Let me take you there to treat the wound, or it'll get infected."
