My heart beats erratically, breaths coming in gasps. I feel myself edging on panic, my concern growing by the second.

Heads turn to follow me as I rush erratically down the street. My eyes scan every window, every alley. There has to be some sign of her. She can’t just have disappeared.

Finding her purse was just confirmation of what my gut was already telling me: Nicole is in trouble. She could be hurt, she could even be dead. My heart seizes on this last thought, panic pushing harder against my mind.

I stop suddenly, feet sliding over the rough cement. I can’t allow myself to lose it. I can’t let panic take control.

I force in a deep breath, another following behind it, my head lowered to block out the sights threatening to overwhelm me.

I have to find her, and to do that, I’m going to need a clear head.

The thought that she may already be beyond helping needles its way back into my mind, and I force it away with all of the energy I can muster. I refuse to acknowledge the idea any longer.

She can’t be dead. I won’t accept that.

So if she’s alive, which I’ve firmly decided that she is, then she’s clearly been mugged.

If only that were the extent of it.

Had she simply had her purse stolen, she would be here. Shaken, perhaps. Scared, maybe.

But she would have come to me. She would have let me comfort her.

Clearly, there’s more at work here.

I bring my head up, looking around the street with new eyes. Now that my heart has slowed its frantic beating, my mind follows suit.

I turn, making a complete 360, eyes scanning my surroundings with renewed attention.

Where would she go? I wonder, trying to put myself into her shoes.

She’s never been here before. Every street holds new wonder for her.

I run through countless ideas as I begin to move again, this time walking at a brisk pace rather than running like a chicken with my head cut off.

Pedestrians pass me on both sides, their attentions elsewhere.

I debate whether to continue showing her picture around, finally deciding that it’s hopeless. Every person that passes me seems wholly consumed in their own activities. If anyone even saw her, I doubt they’d remember now.

I reach an intersection, pausing to wait for traffic. With no clear direction in mind, I decide to follow the crowd.

Hopefully, they’ll lead me to the nearest tourist destinations. I could very well imagine Nicole finding herself someplace like that.

I’m halfway across the intersection when, from the corner of my eye, something seems to call out at me.

My head whips quickly towards the source, my eyes fixing immediately on a man across the way. Hanging loosely in his grip is a scarf that is achingly familiar.

My mind flashes back to Nicole wrapping that same scarf so gently around Luciano, to the way it blew in the breeze as we rode the gondola.

I know without explanation that it’s hers.

Not one like it, or something closely resembling it, but hers. I’m absolutely certain of it.

My feet move before I’ve even finished the thought, flying manically towards the man in question.

His eyes only move to meet me when I’m mere feet away, a look of concern flashing briefly across them.

I know what he must be seeing. I feel the anger etched harshly across my face.

Without giving him even a moment to process, I reach him, lashing out with one hand to grab him roughly around the shoulder.

“Where did you get this?” I demand, using my free hand to quickly yank the scarf from his hand.

He stutters, eyes widening in surprise.

“Where?” I demand, moving my face mere inches from his own.

“I—I bought it,” he chokes out.

I grip him harder, feeling my fingertips sink into his flesh. The wince that pulls across his face sparks encouragement inside me.

“Don’t fucking lie to me. I know whose scarf this is. Where is she?”

He shakes his head, looking around as if expecting to find assistance.

The oblivious crowd now benefits me, passing quickly in a stream, paying no mind whatsoever to the two of us.

“I don’t know!” he finally responds, gaze swiveling back onto me.

“I swear to God,” I force out between gritted teeth, “if you don’t tell me right now, I am going to make you regret it.”

My eyes burn into his, unblinking. I mean every word. The anger pouring through me seems to crescendo, my fists aching to break something.

“Okay, okay!” He manages, clearly seeing the truth in my words. “I got it off some chick, over at the Colosseum!” He gestures in the general direction.

“What did you do to her?” I demand.

“Nothing! I swear, I just grabbed the scarf. It looked expensive.”

His eyes trail down to my hand, looking regretfully at the item. It takes all my self-control not to lay into him anyway.

“Were you alone?” I ask, my voice eerily calm.

He pulls his eyes from the scarf to study the ground instead.

“Were you?” I scream, shaking him roughly.

“No! Okay? No, there were a bunch of us!”

“Is she still there?”

“I—I don’t know. Maybe.”

I release him with one quick motion, pushing slightly back as I do. The sight of him struggling to keep his balance would, on any other day, make me laugh.

Today, though, I don’t spare him a second thought, instead turning towards the Colosseum with renewed vigor, scarf still clutched tightly in my hand.

My feet strike the ground roughly as I sprint down the busy streets, this time not even slowing to apologize to the people I bump into.

I have no time.

Who knows what’s happening to her, right this very moment.

I run faster than I knew possible, the street seeming to blur around me as I go. I dodge quickly through foot traffic, shoving my way through those I can’t avoid. I realize I might feel a little shitty about this later—if I get to Nicole in time, that is.

I round a final corner, my feet sliding across the ground, the Colosseum towering before me, its gory past making it the ideal location for something just like this.

I don’t slow to ponder this. I don’t slow for anything.

In a daze, I run towards it, looking around for any sign of the woman I love.

I don’t know how long I’ve been searching when they finally come in to view. It feels like hours have passed—days even—my terror at what I might find seeming to draw out every second.

When I finally lay eyes on the group of them, everything seems to clear.

I can see her, still blessedly living.

She stands more or less surrounded, the eyes of several large men locked harshly onto her.

At one side, I see a man standing and cursing, blood dripping slowly from a large cut to his eye. In front of me, offering me my view, is another kneeling on the ground, muttering indecipherably while his hand massages between his legs.

I take this all in quickly, feeling pride well up inside me.

At least she’s managed to hurt them. If these men assumed she was an easy target, they were dead wrong.

A man steps from behind her, locking his arms tightly around her chest.

“Enough of that,” he croaks in a heavily accented voice. “Now the real fun begins.”

I’ve seen enough. The moment his arms come into contact with her, the instant he lays his filthy hands on her body, I see red.

Flying forward without a second thought, I careen into their midst. My eyes fall onto the nearest attacker, his attention still locked onto Nicole.

Without ceremony, I’m upon him, my leg flying towards his unprotected head in a high axe kick. The moment before impact, his eyes twitch quickly in my direction, noticing my presence for the first time.

Far too late to save himself, the kick lands with a sickening thud.

His body crumples to the ground instantly, flopping unconsciously to the cement.

Several heads turn quickly in my direction, the element of surprise no longer working in my favor.

A man growls, clearly furious at this latest turn of events, and several others shout at once, their voices mingling, indecipherable.

I hear none of it, my mind fixated only on Nicole.

She stares fixedly ahead, clearly having missed my big entrance.

That’s okay, though.

I scan the group quickly, taking stock of my opponents. A smile tugs at my face even as fury continues to wash over me in waves.

There’s plenty still to show her.