“Hey,” I shouted, but he clapped his hand over my mouth. Panic welled in me so violently I couldn’t think straight. My heart started hammering against my ribs when he pushed me farther into the shadowy abyss.

He had me pinned to the side of the wall, the brick scraping along my back. There’d be marks on my flesh, but that was the least of my worries. His forearm on my throat cut off my oxygen. I clawed at his arm, my nails digging at his skin. He hissed and put more pressure on my neck. My head started to grow fuzzy, my body going numb. I was far beyond panicking, the survival instinct rising up violently.

“You stupid fucking cunt,” he said close to my face, his breath smelling stale, the aroma of the cigarette he’d been smoking making me sick to my stomach. I might have thrown up if I hadn’t been struggling to breathe

The sound of a belt buckle being undone, of a zipper being pulled down, brought reality crashing down on me. I wouldn’t be able to get out of this, not without a hell of a lot more damage than just the scrapes on my back. The sound of people coming in and out of the club was so close, yet so far away.

“You should have taken me up on my offer to come back to my place. I would have been gentle with you.”

Lies.

“But now you’ll get fucked in this dirty alley like the whore you are.”

I felt his erection against my belly. I tried to say something, to yell out, do anything that would make me more than a victim waiting to get attacked.

The flash of headlights pulling into the alley had my attacker stilling and glancing to the side. He kept his forearm on my throat but tucked himself back into his pants. He moved closer to me so I had no doubt that whoever was in that car couldn’t see his arm pressing into me, cutting off my oxygen. It was clear he didn’t care or was too drunk to have a problem with someone seeing us in this position. But I supposed it might look like two people about to get it on…both consenting, even though I wanted to knee this fucker in the balls.

“Make one sound and I’ll find out where you live, come in through your window, and really do some damage.”

God, was the frat-boy appearance just a cover for his psychotic nature? But no way in hell I’d take his threat seriously, even if he meant one word. This would be my only chance to get help. Because even if I did nothing, he’d still destroy me.

The car was a good ten feet away, the headlights shining right on us, the vehicle just idling now. It seemed like forever before the sound of a door opening and closing came louder than the rush of conversation from the club goers just around the corner. And then I heard feet hitting pavement in an easy, relaxed pace; then the sight of a large body—very large—came into view. I could only assume it was a man, given the size. He stayed behind the lights, the shadows wrapping around his tall frame.

He stared at us for long seconds, and for some reason all I could do was stare right back. I started to struggle. I caught the asshole holding me off guard and managed to push him back enough that his forearm was no longer pressed painfully into my throat. I sucked in oxygen, sweet, life-sustaining oxygen. My throat burned, and a flush stole over me, the pain of being able to breathe again claiming me.

“You fucking bitch,” the asshole next to me hissed.

And then there was the sound of another door opening and closing, of a gun being cocked. The shadowy man tipped his head to the side. It was the slightest move, but it caused whoever had just gotten out of the car to start walking toward us.

“The fuck?” the asshole pinned against me said in a hushed voice, his eyes squinted, the headlights blinding us. I feared the worst, thinking maybe I’d misjudged whoever had shown up as being able to help. Maybe they were worse than the fucker who’d attacked me.

And then the guy was pulled away from me, the sweet relief of his body no longer on mine urging me to run. But I was frozen in place, the dark shapes still covered in the shadows, the headlights still blinding me, making it impossible to see anything clearly. I rubbed my throat, the burn almost unbearable.

And then a body was thrown against the side of the building, and I realized it was the would-be frat boy. I stood there shocked, unable to move, as I watched a man approach. He was in front of the car, his body illuminated by the intense yellow glow of his headlights. But his face was still concealed. An air of danger came from this man like a punch to my gut. I sucked in more oxygen, this time not having anything to do with the fact I was struggling to breathe.

I stared at the man currently holding the asshole up against the brick wall by his neck. Whoever the man was, he was big, supporting another human as if it was nothing at all. I covered my chest, despite the fact that I was dressed. I was bared, like I was so open my secrets were exposed. When I glanced at the man who’d tilted his head, who’d sent his guard dog to do his bidding, I could feel his gaze on me. I might not be able to see his face, but I felt his eyes on me like fingers touching me, stroking me, holding me down.

And then my heart seized in my chest as I watched him lift his arm, the gun I’d heard being cocked most likely the one he held. He took a step closer, not to me, but to the body pinned to the wall. The guy was struggling to breathe, clawing at the grip the man had on his throat.

Just like me. A taste of his own medicine.

He kept moving closer to the man pinned to the wall, but I knew he watched me, knew he was calculating all of this. I thought I’d be able to see him when he moved away from the headlights. But once he was standing next to his partner or guard dog or whatever the hell the guy was to him, I still couldn’t make out his face. I knew I wouldn’t have known him anyway, but I wanted to look into the face of the man who’d saved me.

Saved me?

Yes, he’d saved me from a very dark hole, pulled me out so I could breathe again. But I now had this feeling, this sensation like honey on my skin, thick, almost suffocating me again, that this man was far more dangerous than anything I’d ever come across.

He said nothing, and the only sound that penetrated my foggy brain was of the man struggling, of his wheezes and gasps as he tried to claw at the hand holding him, keeping him up. I felt nothing, no sympathy for him, nothing but the need to see him hurt the way he’d hurt me. And then, my lungs clenching painfully with every inhalation I made, I watched the man push away his partner and take his place in front of Frat Boy. Instinct, survival told me to run, to get the hell out of here because this was going straight into hell, where the flames licked at me, threatening to burn me alive.

The man had his head turned in my direction, the fucking shadows making him seem almost unreal, like maybe this was all a hallucination. He was so big, taller, thicker, and more muscular than the man pressed to the wall in front of him. Still he stayed silent; still he watched me. And then he lifted his hand, placed the barrel of the gun against my attacker’s forehead, right in the damn center, and everything seemed to stand still. I knew enough about guns, had seen plenty of movies, to know the silencer attached would make this clean, would have no one panicking and rushing away at the sound of a gunshot.

I took a step forward, not sure why I’d do that. It was the equivalent of trying to touch a chained, starved dog, wanting to run my hands over it even though I knew it would attack me, tear me from limb to limb.

“No,” I said. He might have been about to attack me, rape me, God, who knew what else. I couldn’t stand here and watch some man shoot him. I didn’t want that hanging over me, even if he deserved that and more. “I don’t want that,” I whispered. A long moment passed, maybe a second, maybe an hour. It seemed like ages where my body was stiff, my heart thundering, the man with the gun staring at me. He didn’t pull the trigger, even though maybe he should have. I felt dizzy, my head swimming, the feeling of falling having nothing to do with the drinks I’d had or the situation that had transpired up until right now. “It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it,” I whispered again, but even though I didn’t know this man, I knew that he wasn’t the type to give a shit about what was worth it or not. He did what he did because he wanted to.

I knew that as well as I knew the man with the gun pointed to his head could be shot dead at any second.

I was very aware of the blood rushing through my veins, drowning everything else out. The frat guy was saying something, but I couldn’t hear it, couldn’t focus on anything but the man in front of me who held so much power it could have brought me to my knees.

After a tense second he took a step back, the gun still in his hand, his focus now on the asshole who’d had me in a choke hold. He still hadn’t said one word, not when he cocked the weapon, and not when he had his thug slam the frat-guy up against the building. And he didn’t say anything when he lifted his arm and rammed the butt of the gun at the asshole’s temple. The guy slid to the ground, maybe knocked out, maybe trying to make himself smaller, less noticeable.

And then there was nothing but him and me, staring at each other, the air thick, the world washing away. He turned and left me standing there, his hand at his side, the gun still in his grasp. The flash of a ring caught my attention, a thick one wrapped around his pinky, seeming much more ominous than it should. He got back in the car and drove off. I followed the car with my gaze, watching it disappear down the road, knowing he was staring at me the same as I was him.

I had no idea what in the hell had happened.

I didn’t know if I’d ever be the same.