And then—
"Oi, need some help?"
She flinched. It was a voice she didn't recognize.
Her breath hitched as she turned her head, eyes darting through the dimly lit corridor. That's when she saw him—a guy, leaning casually against the wall.
He was dressed in a white hoodie, jeans, and sneakers, a skateboard resting beside him. The moonlight filtering through the windows illuminated his face, highlighting the messy strands of hair falling over his forehead, the glint of silver earrings, and the lazy smirk playing on his lips. He looked relaxed—completely unfazed by the fact that a panicked, breathless girl was hiding from danger just a few steps away.
Her pulse was still racing, but her mind was sharper now. Who was he? Why was he here?
She eyed him warily. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice a mix of suspicion and desperation.
He didn't answer. Didn't even blink. Instead, he simply extended his hand toward her.
"Wanna come with me?"
His voice was calm, almost amused—like they weren't in the middle of a chase, like she wasn't running for her life.
She hesitated.
Every instinct told her to be cautious. She didn't know this guy. Didn't know if he was trustworthy. For all she knew, this could be another trap.
And yet… something about him felt different.
It wasn't just his confidence—it was the way he stood there, as if he had all the time in the world, as if he already knew she would take his hand. Like he wasn't offering help—he was offering a way out.
She didn't know why, but she trusted him. Maybe it was the sheer exhaustion, maybe it was desperation. Or maybe, deep down, something told her that this stranger—this boy with the mysterious smirk and careless charm—was reliable.
So, she did the only thing she could.
She took his hand.
The next second, before she could even process what was happening, he pulled her onto his skateboard.
And then they were moving. Fast.
The smooth wheels rolled effortlessly across the tiled floor, the air rushing past her face as he expertly maneuvered down the corridor. His movements were sharp, precise—as if he had done this a hundred times before.
She gripped his hoodie tightly, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Behind them, the distant sound of footsteps echoed—the goons were still searching.
Her fear hadn't vanished, but something was different now.
For the first time that night, she wasn't running alone.