"Let me go!" I shouted, trying and failing to pull away from his firm grip. His fingers tightened just enough to make my bones ache.
"Well, aren't we in a bit of a hurry?" the second man said. I turned toward him. All the men resembled each other. A cold sweat slicked my skin. My chest felt tight, my lungs weren't expanding quick enough for me to catch my breath. The second man smiled pleasantly, which only elicited a fresh thrill of fear within me. The third man remained silent and watched me with the calculating eyes of a snake.
I struggled to free myself.
"What's the rush?" the man with the pleasant smile said.
"Surely you can spare a moment for the men who just saved your life?"
He spoke with a distinguished accent, but I couldn't quite place it. He bowed, his wet ash-blonde hair plastered onto his face. I suppose he was right. I owed them a thank you as they had just saved my life. But there was something strange about them. They had a dangerous presence that I wanted no part of.
"Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Cillian. The man who's rather rudely gripping your arm is Torin."
Had I not felt the grip of Torin's hand, I would have believed I was dreaming, but it didn't have the dreamlike quality, and the hand touching my arm was definitely real.
"I need to go home now," I said, pulling myself free from Torin's grip.
"I haven't finished the introductions," Cillian said. "And you still haven't introduced yourself."
I tried to swallow my fear and look them in the eye, but all I could hear was my hammering heart. For once, I wished that what was happening was only my imagination, but I knew it wasn't.
"My name is Tilly," I said with a quavering voice, regretting my words even as I spoke to them.
"I don't want to be rude, but my boyfriend will be concerned if I don't show up. So, if you'll excuse me, I really need to get going."
"Not so quick, Tilly. I haven't introduced myself yet," said the tallest of the three, who regarded me with a predatory gaze. His voice was as cold as his eyes, and when he moved, I noticed a jewelled sword hanging from his belt. Why the hell was he carrying a weapon like that for? He was the most frightening of the three.
I flinched when he reached out and firmly clasped my free hand.
"My name is Fionn."
He bowed and softly kissed my hand. I froze. The contact was brief, but it burned, a spark that travelled up my arm and settled in my chest, leaving me breathless. The electric contact of his lips sent chills throughout my body. As he held my gaze, I couldn't help study his eyes. They were a pale, almost unreal blue with pupils so dark it felt like he could see right through me. I felt exposed, like he was sifting through my thoughts without my consent.
My stomach churned. How could someone’s eyes hold that much power?
His face was sculpted, unnervingly perfect, but it was the imperfection that caught my eye first, a scar slicing through his right eyebrow, cutting a sharp line across the otherwise flawless surface of his cheek. The mark seemed deliberate, as though it had been left there by design rather than chance. And when I glanced at the others, I saw it again, variations of the same scar etched across their faces, each one placed differently, but unmistakably part of the same pattern. My thoughts spiralled, what could have happened for all three to be scarred like that?
Who was this man and why was he here? Why did everything about him feel...off? At that moment, a sharp crack of lightning illuminated a black circular symbol tattooed on his right wrist. As he held my hand, the flesh glowed, and I noticed similar symbols radiating on the wrists of the other two, similar in shape, but each surrounded by faint, curling lines like ancient script, as if their marks had grown roots into their skin.
Even the small details about him seemed commanding. His tailored coat moved without a sound in the wind. It fit too well to be bought from the local shops. I could see It was not made to be fashionable. It was made to command. Underneath, a high collar and nothing sat out of place. Even the belt was perfectly narrow.
At the top of his right sleeve, just below the shoulder seam, a star had been threaded in metallic silver, almost like it had been forgedrather than sewn to match the symbol on his collar. Everythingabout him spoke of refinement, power, and control. He looked like royalty, but he felt more like some type of warning. My mind raced. Why would someone like him be here?
"So nice to meet you," he said, releasing my hand.
Barely controlling my rising panic, I yanked my hand back. It was a futile gesture, he had, after all, already released me, but it made me feel like I was doing something other than bending to the will of the strangers.
No luck.
I didn't know what to do. Impulsively, I reached for my phone but instantly regretted it when I caught the men exchanging a glance. Before I could react, Torin snatched the phone from my hand.
"What are you doing?" I yelled, sounding braver than I felt. I lunged forward, trying to retrieve my phone, but Torin held it just out of my reach, taunting me with it.
"Give that back to me!" I demanded, giving up on trying to snatch it back. I stepped back and hoped he would just hand it back.
He turned the phone over in his fingers and lifted a brow.
"How about a trade?" Torin said with a mischievous grin.
