Elina hated crossing the main road at this hour.
The traffic never slowed, not even for pedestrians, and the drivers acted like anyone without a car didn't deserve space or breath. She clutched her worn jacket tighter around herself, eyes fixed on the flickering pedestrian light as rain misted the air.
Green.
She stepped off the curb.
A horn exploded beside her.
Elina froze as a black luxury car surged forward, its headlights slicing through the rain like blades. The vehicle screeched to a halt inches from her body. Wind rushed past her legs. The smell of burnt rubber filled her nose.
Her heart slammed violently against her ribs.
For one terrifying second, she thought she was dead.
Then the car stopped.
Silence followed, thick, stunned, heavy.
People gasped. Someone shouted. Traffic snarled behind the car, horns blaring in outrage.
Elina stumbled back a step, legs shaking, chest heaving as she stared at the glossy black hood inches from her knees.
The driver's door opened.
A man stepped out.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in a dark coat so perfectly tailored it looked unreal against the grimy street. Rain dotted his hair, but he didn't seem to notice or care.
He surveyed the scene calmly, like someone inspecting a minor inconvenience.
Something inside Elina snapped.
"Are you insane?" she shouted, her voice trembling with fury. "You could've killed me!"
The man's dark eyes flicked to her, sharp and unreadable. Slowly, deliberately, his gaze traveled over her, her cheap shoes, her frayed sleeves, the grocery bag clenched in her hand.
"You stepped into traffic," he said evenly.
The words hit her like a slap.
"The light was green!" she shot back. "For pedestrians!"
People were watching now. A small crowd gathered, whispering, phones raised.
The man glanced around briefly, irritation flickering across his face. He was clearly unaccustomed to scenes, especially not ones where he was being confronted.
"You should be more careful," he said coolly. "This isn't a playground."
Elina laughed, a sharp, bitter sound that surprised even her.
"Oh, that's rich," she snapped. "You think money gives you the right to run people over?"
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
The man's jaw tightened.
"You have no idea who you're talking to."
"I don't care who you are," Elina said loudly. "You don't own the road. Or this city."
Their eyes locked.
Something electric passed between them, anger, challenge, something darker and unfamiliar. His gaze sharpened, interest glinting beneath irritation.
"No one talks to me like this," he said quietly.
"Then maybe someone should've started earlier," she fired back.
The rain fell harder, plastering her hair to her face, soaking her thin jacket. She didn't care. Years of swallowed anger, at poverty, at loss, at injustice, boiled over in that moment.
"You almost killed me," she continued, voice shaking now with adrenaline. "And instead of apologizing, you stand there acting like I inconvenienced you."
For a moment, Alex Romanov said nothing.
The crowd waited.
Then, slowly, his lips curved, not into a smile, but something colder.
"Apologies are wasted on people who don't understand consequences," he said.
That did it.
"Consequences?" Elina stepped closer, ignoring the warning bells in her head. "You think I don't understand consequences? Try watching your father get dragged through the mud, lose everything, and die because powerful men decided he was disposable."
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
The man's expression changed, just slightly.
His eyes darkened.
"You should walk away," he said softly.
"And you should learn to drive," she shot back. "Or is that beneath you too?"
Gasps echoed around them.
His driver hurried forward, whispering urgently into his ear.
"Sir, we need to leave. You're blocking traffic."
Alex didn't look away from her.
"Get her name," he said quietly. "In case this becomes… complicated."
Elina's stomach twisted.
She lifted her chin. "Don't bother. I won't sue. I can't afford lawyers like you."
A flicker of something, surprise? crossed his face.
"Then why make a scene?" he asked.
"Because someone has to remind men like you that we exist," she said. "The people you almost crush."
Their gazes held.
The world seemed to narrow to just the two of them, the rain, the street, the hum of danger vibrating between them.
Finally, Alex stepped back.
"Move," he ordered his driver.
The door shut. The car pulled away, disappearing into traffic like nothing had happened.
The crowd dispersed slowly, whispers trailing behind.
Elina stood there, heart racing, hands shaking violently now that the adrenaline was fading. She looked down to realize her grocery bag had torn open. Apples rolled across the wet pavement.
She crouched, gathering them with trembling fingers, blinking rapidly against the sting in her eyes.
Stupid. Reckless. Emotional.
She stood and walked away, unaware of the pair of dark eyes watching her through a tinted window until she vanished into the crowd.
Across the Street
Alex Romanov leaned back in his seat, jaw clenched.
"Who was that?" his driver asked cautiously.
Alex didn't answer immediately.
The woman's face replayed in his mind, defiant, furious, unafraid. No recognition in her eyes. No calculation. Just raw honesty and rage.
"She didn't know who I was," he said finally.
"That's rare," the driver murmured.
Alex's lips curved slightly.
"Yes," he agreed. "And dangerous."
"Should I have security look into it?"
Alex paused.
Images flickered, her words about her father, the way her voice cracked just a little beneath the anger.
"Yes," he said. "Find out who she is."
A beat.
"And make sure she's not hurt."
The driver glanced at him in surprise but nodded.
As the car merged into traffic, Alex stared out the window, something unfamiliar stirring in his chest.