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Rain showers the streets, hammering against the pavement like drums. I press myself under the eaves of a closed boutique, sheltering my book with my arms. The shutters are down, the glass dark, but the small roof shields me from the storm.
My bag digs into my shoulder, heavy like the burden I'm desperate to escape.
Freedom was supposed to feel lighter than this. But after leaving the mansion- the suffocating rules an endless expectations- I've realised that freedom comes with chains of its own. Vigilance. Caution. Always having to plan a step ahead.
The street is nearly empty, shadows lurk in the corners, consumed by darkness.
That's when I saw him. A man. Tall. Hurried. He moves like someone being followed. Every step measured, wary, desperate.
My stomach knots. I grip my bag tighter. No. I won't be intimidated. I've come so far already. I've risked too much already.
Then, a group of men emerges from the shadows, closing in fast, their eyes locking in on me like prey. Fear pins me to the spot, I stand frozen.
Before I can even react, he appears next to me- a shadow among shadows, moving with effortless control. He's swift. Strong.
He grabs my wrist, yanking me away from the men closing in. My book tumbles from my arms and falls to the wet pavement with a thud- disappearing into the chaos.
We break into a run together, his pace pulling me forward. The men pull out their guns, shouting and firing wildly. He shoves me in front of him, ducking and twisting to avoid the spray of bullets. My heart pounds so hard it hurts.
At this pace, we won't take it- the bullets will catch us.
He yanks me down a side street before I even have time to process what's happening, his grip firm, unyielding. We turn. A corner. Another alley. I stumble but he pulls me along, forcing me to keep pace.
We spin around a sharp turn, a corner swallowed by darkness. His body presses against mine. My heart pounds, but I can't look away from his eyes- intense, unblinking, calculating.
The men rush past, their shouts echoing in the dark. For a moment, it's just the rain, the shadows, and him.
He finally releases me, stepping back slightly. I press my back against the cold brick, trying to reclaim my thoughts. My hands are still clutching my bag, soaked and heavy, but I don't drop it. I can't.
"Congratulations, you just got marked," he muttered. "Walk away, and you won't last an hour."
My jaw tightens. My mind a storm of questions. Marked? By who? Why me? WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?
I swallow, forcing my panic into something steadier. Think. Calm. Breathe. Keep it together, Lila. No panicking. You don't know what he's capable of.
"Trust me, I'm not planning to," I say, surprised at how steady my voice sounds.
He tilted his head slightly, as if weighing my words. Then he gave a short, almost undetectable nod.
"Good," he says. "Because staying alive... means you listen. This isn't the time to be confused. You just have to trust me. Move when I do. Got it?"
His voice is sharp, cold and absolute, leaving no room for argument. I flinch at how commanding it is.
Part of me aches at the thought of freedom. Maybe... maybe this is my chance to escape. To finally leave everything behind.
"I understand," I whisper, though a stubborn impulse claws at me, wanting to argue, wanting to run off in my own direction. I can't. Following him- dangerous, uncertain and terrifying- is my only chance to escape. My only way to survive.
His eyes sweep the street one last time, cold and unflinching. "Then don't slow me down."
He steps back into the darkness, motioning for me to follow. My thoughts are still spinning, but I obey. Somehow, I know that following him- staying close, matching his every move- is the only way I survive tonight.