The streets were quieter than usual when Aria left the design firm that night. Too quiet. Her phone buzzed with a dead battery warning, and she cursed under her breath. Just a ten-minute walk home. She could handle that.
Halfway down the block, she felt it. Footsteps. Not close, but steady. Following.
Aria picked up her pace, her heels clicking faster against the pavement. Her reflection in the shop windows revealed two men a few strides back—hoods low, shoulders heavy. The same chill from the alley prickled her skin.
Not again…
She turned into a narrower street, hoping to shake them, but the sound of pursuit quickened. Panic scraped at her chest.
Then—his voice. Low, smooth, terrifyingly calm.
"Keep walking, Aria."
Her heart leapt. He was there. Just like before, materializing out of the shadows in a black coat, one hand tucked casually in his pocket as if he had been waiting for this exact moment.
The men froze when they saw him. Recognition flickered in their eyes, followed by fear.
"Not worth it," one muttered, tugging the other back. Within seconds, they melted into the night.
Aria spun around, breathless. "Are you—are you following me again?"
He stepped closer, close enough that the faint glow of the streetlight caught the sharp lines of his face. His eyes held hers with unshakable intensity.
"You're too careless," he said softly. "The city isn't kind to women who think they're untouchable."
"I don't need—" she began, but her voice broke, betraying the way her hands still trembled.
He noticed. His gaze dropped to her fists, then back up. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he lifted a hand and brushed his thumb across her knuckles. Just enough to steady them.
Aria's breath caught. Her skin burned at his touch, her body caught between the instinct to pull away and the dangerous desire to lean in.
"I don't need saving," she whispered, but it sounded weaker than she intended.
He leaned closer, his voice a hushed promise against the night. "Then why do you keep ending up in my arms?"
For a moment, the world went silent. Just him, her, and the unspoken charge between them. Her lips parted as if to protest, but instead she found herself frozen under the weight of his presence—heart racing, breath shallow.
And then, as quickly as he had come, he stepped back. His hand slipped from hers, leaving behind only the echo of warmth.
"Go home, Aria," he said. "Before I forget I'm supposed to be the good guy."
She stood rooted to the spot as he disappeared once more into the shadows, leaving her shaken, furious… and disturbingly aware of how much she already missed the heat of his touch.