Rain fell hard against the narrow alleyways of the city, washing neon lights into broken rivers of color. Aria pressed her back against the cold brick wall, chest heaving, heart pounding like it wanted to tear through her ribs. The men chasing her were closing in—three of them, shadows with knives and voices that carried menace.
"Come on, sweetheart," one jeered. "Don't make this harder."
Her hand fumbled for her phone, but it slipped from her trembling fingers and clattered to the wet ground. Alone. Helpless. And yet—she refused to beg. Aria always fought. Always.
Then, out of the darkness, he stepped.
Tall. Unflinching. A presence that made the alley itself fall silent. Black coat, sharp jawline, eyes that seemed to pierce right through the men—and her.
"Walk away," he told them, voice low and steady. "Now."
The laugh from the thugs lasted less than a breath. In the next instant, chaos erupted. Fists, groans, the sickening crack of bone against brick. When silence returned, two of them lay unconscious, and the third stumbled away, limping and swearing, too broken to fight anymore.
Aria's pulse thundered. She should have felt relief. Gratitude. But instead, a hot anger rose in her chest.
"I didn't need your help," she snapped, pulling her coat tighter around herself.
He turned to her, unfazed by her fury. Those eyes—dark, unreadable—settled on her with unsettling intensity.
"You were cornered," he said simply, stepping closer. "If I hadn't come…" His gaze dropped briefly to the phone at her feet. "You'd be bleeding out instead of standing."
Aria stooped to grab her phone, refusing to let him tower over her. "I can take care of myself. I don't owe you anything."
The corner of his mouth curved—not a smile, but something sharper. "I didn't ask for your debt."
"Then what do you want?" she demanded.
He studied her, rain sliding down his cheek like liquid steel. His silence stretched, until she felt her skin prickle beneath his gaze. Finally, his answer came, quiet but certain:
"…To see you again