The three thugs circled her like dogs around fresh meat, and Lily's knees almost gave out. She wasn't a fighter, not a mage, not even an alchemist with a trick up her sleeve.
Just a shopkeeper with a coughing husband and a bad stroke of luck. This street was supposed to be safe—no duels, no magic fights, no blades flashing.
Yet here she was, cornered at knifepoint.
"Look at this bitch. Bet that cripple at home never even touched her, let alone fingered her. She's starving for cock."
The second thug leaned close, eyes glinting, his breath hot with ale.
"Nah, look at the glow on her cheeks. That's pussy glow. That's a face that's been stuffed full and creamed good."
The third one barked a laugh, giving her ass a rough slap.
"Then it ain't her husband. Some young stud must've been bending her over while that coughing wreck snored in the corner. Hah, what a whore."
Lily's face burned, not with anger this time but raw shame. Her mind betrayed her, dragging her back to him.
That damned handsome bastard who'd taken advantage of her weakness, slipping fingers inside her until she was shaking apart.
And the worst part—she hadn't hated it. No, she'd melted, welcomed the release like a drowning woman grabbing air.
But gratitude? Never. Not to him. Definitely not to him.
"Who's there!"
The bark ripped through the alley. All four of them jerked their heads toward the dark mouth of the street.
Lily's heart flipped in her chest, her breath catching.
'N-no way… no way it's him…'
Ba-dum. Ba-dum.
Her pulse hammered so loud she thought they'd hear it. Heat flooded her cheeks, and lower, god help her, even her pussy clenched like it was waiting. She squeezed her thighs together, trying to bury the treacherous ache.
'It—it's not him… right?'
And yet, even as she told herself that, her heart clawed for it. For that smug grin, that cocky swagger, that maddening air of overconfidence that screamed—Alex.
But if course, fate was cruel...
It wasn't Alex.
Out of the shadows came Marcus, her poor, fever-ridden husband, clutching a sputtering torch in one shaky hand. His other hand pressed against his chest as he wheezed, each step a limp, each breath a fight.
Lily's eyes went wide, horror stabbing through her gut.
'No… no, not him… anyone but him!'
The thugs looked at each other, then burst into cruel laughter.
"Well, well, look what crawled out of bed."
"Oi, old man, you lost your coffin or somethin'?"
Marcus tried to stand tall, but his body betrayed him, shaking like a leaf, the firelight showing sweat dripping down his pale face. Still, he forced his voice out, ragged but firm.
"Let… let her go."
Lily's throat tightened, tears threatening. Her body trembled for an entirely new reason now.
She wanted a savior. But not like this. Not him.
If these animals touched Marcus, if they broke him in front of her, she'd never forgive herself.
She knew, because she knew, these thugs who dared to drag her off a bustling street would do far worse to her husband.
"R-run, husband, run!"
Lily cried, voice cracking. She couldn't escape, not with the knives and filthy hands already boxing her in. But maybe, just maybe, he could.
Marcus shook his head, lips trembling, eyes glassy with fever. Still, he stood there, coughing into his sleeve, clutching that pathetic torch like it was a sword.
"I… cough… I came looking. You didn't return, Lily. I searched… cough, cough… everywhere. Then… I saw the groceries… lying on the ground."
The thugs roared with laughter.
"Groceries, he says! This dumb bastard came runnin' out for veggies."
"Look at him shake, holy hell, even the torch is about to faint."
"Oi, old man, you really think you can save her? You can't even save yourself. Watch close, 'cause your little wifey's about to entertain us."
Lily's heart broke. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she shook her head violently.
"No, Marcus! Please, run, don't—don't stay here!"
But Marcus staggered closer instead, chest rattling like an old bellows. His voice cracked, but it still rang clear:
"If you touch her… you'll have to go through me first."
The thugs burst out laughing, their cackles bouncing off the damp walls.
"Oi, oi, why don't we give him a front-row seat so he can watch his little wife's pussy get stretched, eh?"
The other two hollered, egging him on, before peeling off from Lily and closing in on Marcus.
Marcus didn't flinch. He just raised the torch with a trembling hand, like a knight trying to ward off dragons with a candle stick. His wheezy chest rattled, but his eyes burned with a fragile kind of resolve.
"Stay… away," he croaked.
Lily's heart tore. She slapped her hands over her face, shaking her head wildly.
"No—Marcus, please!"
And then, in a single brutal second, it was done.
The biggest thug stepped in, swung his fist, and cracked it straight into Marcus's gut.
The air left his body in a violent cough. His knees buckled. Blood sprayed across the dirt as he collapsed, gasping like a fish out of water.
Lily's scream ripped through the alley, raw and hopeless.
The thugs grinned, towering over Marcus's shivering body.
"That's all it took, huh? One little love tap. Now sit there like a good dog and watch while we ruin your woman."
Marcus coughed and sputtered, his body shaking as he clutched his stomach. The torch clattered to the ground, rolling in the dirt, its little flame licking shadows across the alley walls.
The thug with the knife crouched low, sneering at Lily.
"Tch, this your man? This wheezing sack of bones? No wonder you're dripping already. Pussy like yours needs a real cock, not some coughing corpse."
The second one stomped Marcus's hand when he tried to push himself up. Crunch. Marcus howled, blood bubbling at his lips.
"Stay down, grandpa," the thug spat, grinding his heel into Marcus's fingers. "You're not a husband, you're a spectator."
The third thug grabbed Lily's chin, forcing her to look straight at her broken husband.
"Oi, slut. Think he'll cry when he sees us split you open? Bet he'll cough himself to death while you're moaning for us instead of him."
Lily's tears spilled, her voice breaking.
"D-don't—please—"
But the knife-holder leaned closer to Marcus, his grin sharp as a blade.
"Hey, old man. Tell me something. Did you know your precious little wife already had a her pussy stuffed before this? Hah! Maybe that's why she's leaking through her dress right now."
Marcus's bloodshot eyes flicked to Lily, confused, trembling. His lips parted like he wanted to deny it, but no sound came.
The thug's laughter filled the alley.
"Heh, look at him. Doesn't even know his darling cunt's already been broken in."