The rain hadn't stopped when Layla left the café later that night. It fell harder now, turning the city streets into rivers of shimmering black and gold. She pulled her coat tighter around her and started walking quickly, her heels splashing in shallow puddles.
Her mind was still tangled in the strange conversation she'd had with Adrian. The way he spoke, the way he looked at her—as though she was more than a stranger—haunted her. She had told herself it was nothing, just a fleeting encounter. But her heart didn't believe it.
She turned down a narrow street, one she often used as a shortcut to her apartment. Normally it was quiet, almost peaceful. Tonight, however, the air felt heavier. The streetlights flickered, their glow struggling against the storm.
Layla's steps slowed.
Something wasn't right.
Behind her, she heard the faint echo of footsteps.
She stopped. The sound stopped.
Her pulse quickened. She turned her head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse, but the rain blurred everything. The shadows stretched unnaturally long, as if the night itself was watching her.
"Keep walking," she whispered to herself, her voice trembling.
But before she could take another step, a figure emerged from the darkness. A man—broad-shouldered, face hidden beneath a hood—blocked her path. Another figure stepped behind her. Then another.
Three of them.
Her stomach dropped.
"Where do you think you're going, pretty girl?" the man in front sneered, his voice rough and cruel.
Layla's heart pounded. She tried to move backward, but the men behind her closed in, their smirks illuminated by the flickering light.
"Please—I don't want any trouble," she managed, her voice barely steady.
The man laughed. "Oh, but trouble has already found you."
Panic surged through her veins. She wanted to scream, but the sound died in her throat. One of them reached out, grabbing her arm with a force that made her flinch.
And then—
"Let her go."
The voice was calm. Deep. Unmistakable.
Layla's breath caught. Adrian.
He stood at the end of the street, half-hidden by the rain and shadows, but his presence was undeniable. The grey eyes that had unsettled her hours ago now burned with something else—fury.
The man holding her laughed. "And who the hell are you supposed to be?"
Adrian stepped forward slowly, each movement deliberate, predatory. He shrugged off his coat, letting it fall to the wet ground. His shirt clung to him, rain dripping from his dark hair, but his gaze never wavered.
"The last mistake you'll ever make," he said quietly.
Layla shivered—not from the cold, but from the way he said it.
The men laughed again, but there was hesitation now, unease beneath their bravado. Adrian moved faster than her eyes could follow. One second he was several feet away; the next, his fist connected with the jaw of the man holding her. The crack echoed louder than the thunder.
The man fell, groaning, clutching his face.
The other two rushed forward, but Adrian didn't flinch. He moved with frightening precision—swift, controlled, like someone who had done this many times before. Within moments, both were on the ground, cursing and groaning in pain.
Layla stood frozen, rain soaking her hair and clothes, unable to process what she was seeing. Adrian wasn't just strong—he was ruthless.
When it was over, he turned to her, his chest rising and falling with quiet intensity. The men scrambled away, limping into the shadows, too terrified to stay.
Adrian walked closer, his hand reaching out—not rough, but steady. "You're safe now."
She stared at him, her heart thundering louder than the rain. A thousand questions burned on her lips: Who are you? How did you find me? Why do you look at me like that?
But all she managed to whisper was, "Why… why were you here?"
For the first time, his expression softened. Yet his eyes remained unreadable, carrying secrets she knew she wasn't ready to uncover.
"Because," he said quietly, "the world is more dangerous than you think, Layla. And sometimes… danger doesn't come from the shadows."
His gaze locked with hers.
"Sometime
s," he added, voice low and almost broken, "it comes from people like me."