The rain wasn't falling—it was attacking.Big, heavy drops slammed into Alara's hood, dripping cold down the back of her neck. She pulled the fabric tighter around her face, but it didn't help. Her sweatshirt was soaked through, and her sneakers squished with every step.
She hated this part of the city. Too many closed-down shops. Too many shadowed doorways. Too many eyes that watched you but pretended not to.
Her phone was dead. The map app she'd been using had died halfway through the bus ride, and she'd been guessing the rest of the way on foot.
She stopped under a flickering streetlight and looked both ways.Neither direction looked familiar.
"Great. Just great," she muttered to herself.
Up ahead, the main road she'd been aiming for was blocked by construction fencing and a sign that read ROAD CLOSED – NO ENTRY. Beyond the barrier, she could hear the rumble of distant traffic—the sound of the road she needed to be on.
The only way around meant backtracking fifteen minutes through the freezing rain. Or…
Her gaze slid to the narrow alley on the right. A shortcut.
It was the kind of alley people in movies always said don't go down there. Graffiti, dented dumpsters, a flicker of something small and fast disappearing into the shadows.
She bit her lip. She was cold, wet, and already late. She could handle a creepy alley. Probably.
Pulling her hood lower, she stepped inside.
At first it was just quiet. The walls on either side were tall enough to block most of the rain, and her footsteps echoed faintly off the concrete.
Then the quiet changed.
It wasn't silent anymore—it was heavy. Like the air was paying attention.
Footsteps joined hers, slow but deliberate.
Alara's skin prickled. She glanced over her shoulder.
A man had entered the alley. Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a black jacket with the hood pulled low. She couldn't see his face, but she could see the way he walked—unhurried, confident, like he knew exactly where she was going.
She turned back and picked up her pace.
The footsteps behind her matched hers.
Her heart beat faster. She could see the faint orange glow of the street on the other side now—freedom, safety, people. Just a few more steps—
Another man appeared at the mouth of the alley ahead.
He didn't come toward her. He just stood there, blocking the exit.
Alara stopped.
The man ahead tilted his head. "You're in the wrong place."
Her voice came out sharper than she intended. "I'm just passing through."
"You passed through the wrong street," he said, his tone calm, almost bored.
Her eyes darted between him and the man behind her. "Okay, then I'll just—" She gestured over her shoulder. "—go back."
The man behind her stepped closer, closing the gap.
"Or," the man in front continued, "you could come with us."
Her stomach dropped. "No thanks."
She darted toward the wall, trying to squeeze past, but the man behind her caught her arm. His grip was iron—no give, no chance of pulling free.
"Don't make this harder than it needs to be," he said.
Adrenaline surged. She kicked backward, connecting with his shin. He grunted but didn't let go.
Before she could scream, headlights flared at the alley's end. A black SUV rolled up, tires hissing on wet pavement.
The man in front of her opened the back door.
Her pulse roared in her ears. "No! Let go of me!"
The man holding her leaned down, voice low. "You really want to do this the hard way?"
"I'm not going anywhere with you," she spat.
He sighed like she was a stubborn child. Then he lifted her—completely off the ground. Her legs kicked wildly, her sneakers scraping against the wall.
The other man reached across, grabbing her wrists. They moved like they'd done this before.
The inside of the SUV was dark, smelling faintly of leather and something sharp, expensive.
The door slammed shut behind her.
Outside, the rain kept falling. Inside, her world had just changed.