Dylan's entire body went still.
That voice.
He knew that voice.
It was Stella.
Her voice trembled in the dark, "Let me go, please…"
A sharp, cold pressure squeezed his chest. His jaw tightened, and all thoughts of minding his own business vanished like smoke.
He stepped forward, quiet and deadly, the kind of movement predators made before striking.
The three men surrounding Stella turned at the sound of his approaching footsteps.
Their expressions were ready to snap, ready to curse, well prepared to intimidate whoever dared interrupt.
But the moment Dylan's face entered the pale glow of the streetlamp, everything shifted.
A suffocating silence fell. The air felt heavy, almost dangerous. Even the night breeze seemed to pause.
For a split second, none of the men moved. Even their breathing halted.
Then Stella saw him.
Her eyes widened, filled with shock and relief. "Dylan…?"
Her voice cracked, trembling with fear, as she tried to hide it.
