Rain blurred the city lights when Emily's car skidded to a stop.
Her wipers couldn't keep up with the storm — flashes of headlights streaked across the wet glass, distorted shapes passing in the dark. She had been driving home from another late shift at the hospital, mind fogged by exhaustion, when a sound split through the air — sharp, violent, wrong.
Gunfire.
The noise echoed off the narrow street ahead, followed by the thud of something heavy hitting the ground. Her heart lurched before she even saw him. A man stumbled out from the mouth of an alley, clutching his side. Then he collapsed onto the slick pavement, the red pooling too fast around him.
For one suspended second, Emily froze. Every instinct screamed don't get involved.
But before reason could stop her, she was out of the car — rain soaking through her scrubs, shoes splashing in the puddles as she ran toward him.
"Hey! Sir—can you hear me?"
No response. His white shirt was torn open, dark with blood. His skin was pale beneath the streetlight, jaw clenched in pain. Emily's hands trembled as she pressed her jacket against the wound.
"Stay with me," she whispered. "You're going to be fine, just—just stay with me."
He opened his eyes. And the world seemed to stop.
Cold, sharp eyes — gray, like a storm contained in human form — locked onto hers. Even in pain, there was no panic. No confusion. Just control. He looked at her not like a victim seeing his rescuer, but like a man calculating his next move.
"Who sent you?" he rasped.
Her heart skipped. "What? No one— I just— you're hurt, I'm trying to help—"
His hand caught her wrist with surprising strength. "Phone," he muttered, voice raw. "Don't call. They'll trace it."
She blinked, rain dripping from her lashes. "They? Who's—"
But before she could ask, his hand slipped away and his body went limp.
"Hey—hey! No, no, stay with me!" Emily's voice broke as she pressed harder on the wound, but it was no use. Panic surged through her chest, choking logic. She looked around — the street was deserted, drowned in rain and silence.
Her car idled nearby, headlights glowing weakly in the downpour.
She made a decision she'd regret later.
By the time she hauled him into the passenger seat, her hands were slick with blood. Her pulse hammered in her ears as she gripped the wheel and hit the gas, tires screeching against the wet asphalt.
"Where do I take you?" she muttered, almost to herself. "Hospital? No—no, you said they'd trace it—God, what do I do?"
Then, from the passenger seat — a low, strained whisper. "Right… turn right."
She nearly swerved. "You're awake?"
"Just drive."
She followed his directions blindly, weaving through streets she didn't recognize. The city lights faded into darker, quieter roads. Then, out of nowhere, massive iron gates loomed ahead — tall and black, guarded by men who stepped forward before the car even stopped.
Her pulse jumped.
The moment they saw him, everything moved fast. The guards opened the door, pulled him out gently but efficiently. Emily stumbled out after them, rain still pouring down her face.
"Wait! He needs a doctor!"
"He'll get one," one of them said curtly, already turning away.
"No—listen, he was bleeding—he needs a hospital!"
The man's gaze was unreadable. "Come with me, Miss."
Before she could question how he knew her name, they were already escorting her through a grand entryway. The doors closed behind her with a deep, echoing sound that made her stomach twist.
The place was… unreal. Marble floors, silent hallways, a faint smell of smoke and something expensive she couldn't name.
"Where am I?" she whispered.
No one answered.
By the time she was led into a dimly lit room, her adrenaline had burned itself out. She sank onto the edge of the bed, soaked, trembling, and utterly confused.
Who was he? Why were there guards with guns? And why did it feel like she'd walked straight into something she couldn't get out of?
Outside, thunder rolled through the night — and Emily had no idea her life had just changed forever.