Every word further glued my feet to the ground. For a few seconds, I just stood there, struggling to think straight over my heartbeat racing in my ears.
DreamScape. Zafyra’s warning echoed in my head.We can do this only once.
Gavin hadn’t come to work, had neglected his social contacts, was probably neglecting himself, too… Zafyra had told me the tech was addictive, but not that it was this bad.
And the same thing could happen to me, too. Because I would never admit it to anyone, but God, was I ready to leave the real world behind and be her sex slave forever, real or not.
A shiver ran down my spine. What kind of sick shitwasthis side hustle indeed?
“Well?” John’s voice snapped me back to reality. I blinked, realizing he was waiting for an answer.
“Well,” I heard myself say, snappier than intended, “if he’s abusing his AI girlfriend in there, at least he won’t do it to real women.”
I instantly regretted my words when John chuckled – a smug, gritty sound. “I knew you were feisty.”
I took an involuntary step back, my mind working overtime as the panic increased.Maybe I could leave the alley the way I came and find another way to the subway.
He took another step closer. I took another one back.
“How long are you going to deny this spark between us?” He raised his eyebrow.
My eyes widened at the sheer absurdity of the question. “This—what?”
“You think I don’t see you?” He grinned. “How you avert your eyes whenever I look at you? How you tense up when I approach you? You like this little game of pretending you don’t want me, don’t you? Is it the thrill of being chased?”
Bile rose in my throat. “I need to catch the subway now.” My voice came out brittle.
John reached out to touch my face. I ducked instinctively. “Because it’s been fun, but now we’ve played this game long enough.”
Rage coiled in my chest at the sudden, unprompted touch – adrenaline instantly suppressing my fear. “Try to touch me again and I’ll make you regret it,” I blurted out.
His grin widened. “Will you?”
He grabbed my waist with both hands.
Wrong move.
Red spots clouded my vision.
My body reacted in an instant, before I had time to think. I dropped my weight, hooked one foot behind his heel, twisted my hips, and slammed my elbow into the soft part of his stomach. He gasped – just enough slack for me to grab his wrist, twist it hard, and pivot.
His body flipped clean over mine and hit the concrete with a sickening thud.
John screamed – a prolonged, pained, shrill sound that snapped my brain in half, yet only fueled my rage.
I didn’t let go of his arm. I wrenched it backward, felt the tension snap, and only then did I release.
“Ahhh, fuck! You bitch!” he forced out, tears welling up in his eyes. “You—fuck, you broke it! You broke my wrist!”
Dark satisfaction filled me as I stepped back to look at him, lying there curled up into a ball, clutching his wrist. I wiped the sweat off my forehead with a trembling hand.
Then, I stepped over his shaking body and rushed toward the subway, running more than walking, heart pounding in my ears. I didn’t slow down until I reached the gates. Never had I been so relieved to see groups of people.
As the fear and adrenaline eased, I released the breath I was holding.
A laugh left my lips – shaky, yet relieved. Unfortunately for John, my mother had made me take self-defense classes from a young age.Although I hated it back then, I soon started to see its benefits in my teenage years, when I tended to interpret men’s flirting as friendliness. With my unassuming posture and skittish behavior, they often made the mistake of underestimating me – until they pushed too far.
“I’m really trying,” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else when the subway gates opened for my retinal scan. “I’m trying to be the bigger fucking person, but these idiots are not making it easy.”
