Shit, shouldn’t have said driver.

He licked his lips—the only thing visible beneath the cape of the hoodie. “Ah, you’re one of those.”

“One of what?”

“Rich bitches.” He came closer, reeking of unwashed body and dirt. “Gimme your money, and no one gets hurt.”

Three years ago, I would’ve screamed for help and bolted.

Now, I was handicapped in heels and aching from sex. I was older. I’d battled more wars with men in the corporate world. If he wanted money, fine. I would argue that he should go and earn some rather than steal from innocent pedestrians.

“Go away. I’m not interested.”

“Not interested?” He cocked his head. “What part of ‘gimme your money’ sounds like a negotiation?”

I crossed my arms, hoping he wouldn’t see my torn blouse beneath. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not giving you any.”

“Yes, you fucking are.” His fists clenched. “Now.”

“I’m not lying. I have no money.”

He took another step, forcing me to take one back.

His lips turned up in a vindictive smirk. “Jewelry then.” Trailing his eyes over me, he noticed my crystal earrings. “Those. Gimme.”

Without hesitation, I pulled them from my lobes and handed them over. I wore nothing else. No bracelets or rings. The only necklace I’d loved was my sapphire star that’d been stolen from me in such similar circumstances.

“And the fucking rest.” He palmed my thirty-dollar earrings I’d sampled from the Belle Elle costume jewelry rack as if they were the Hope diamond.

I splayed my hands, cursing my shaking. “I told you. I don’t have anything else.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m telling the truth.”

He advanced again. This time, I held my ground even though my heart once again grabbed its rape whistle ready to blow.

“How about I search you? Make sure you’re not lying?”

I gritted my teeth. “Touch me, and you die.”

He laughed; it bounced off the buildings standing as witnesses to our standoff. “Sure, bitch. What you gonna do? Stab me with your shoe?”

I looked down at my patent silver pumps—the flash of bling to match my earrings. “Thanks for the idea.”

Kicking one off, I quickly scooped it up and brandished the metallic spiky heel. “You’ve taken what I have. Now, get lost.”

Pushing back his hood, he bared his teeth. He wasn’t ugly, and he wasn’t handsome. He was just a thief, hungry and doing bad things. “I don’t think so, rich bitch.”

Nothing about him was familiar, but he was a lonely man in a hoodie late at night.

My curiosity wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t confirm for sure.

My tummy clenched as I went against survival and leaned in. I searched his face. I gave in to the consuming question that’d popped into my head the moment he’d appeared.

Is it him?

Was it Nameless?

But hope turned to dust.

It isn’t him.

This man was older—pushing past thirty. His teeth were black, his skin sallow, his hair lank and thinning. He was skinny and about Nameless’s height, but unless he was a really rough-looking older brother, my homeless savior wasn’t here.

He charged forward, grabbing my breast with rancid fingers. “Can’t pay me, then I might as well hurt you.”

“Get your fucking hands off me!” I stumbled back, swinging my shoe, doing my best to connect.

He ducked, grabbing me.

I struck.

Vicious victory warmed me as the sharp heel grazed his temple.

“Fuck!” He reared back, holding the side of his face.

That was all I needed.

Kicking off my other shoe, I turned and transformed into something that could flee. A rabbit, a gazelle, a horse, a bird.

I pushed every ounce of power into my legs and struck off barefoot.

I didn’t focus on the pebbles hurting my soles. I didn’t scream as I stood on a piece of broken beer bottle. I didn’t cry as my insides howled from being used and now forced to gallop.

I just focused on freedom. Like every day of my life.

“Come back here, you bitch. You owe me!” The footfalls of my assailant gave chase, driving me to grab every air molecule, transform every dreg of energy, and turn it into rocket fuel as propulsion.

I careened around the corner, spying Penn’s building.

So far.

I’ll make it.

I skidded on an old newspaper but didn’t slow down.

The thief cursed and grumbled, keeping pace with me, slowly catching up.

Headlights appeared in the distance, bright and glowing, warm and welcoming.

I flew off the sidewalk, directly into the car’s path.

Instead of slowing down to help, the vehicle sped up as if to run me over and deliver my corpse to the man currently wanting to hurt me.

I waved my arms. “Stop. Help!”

The darkness in the car showed a single driver, their hands clenching the wheel. He drove directly for me. I had a split second to decide what to do—where to run before he struck.

But the collision never happened.

The driver wrenched the steering and drove over the curb, slamming to a stop.

The engine screamed as the front door flung open and a man leaped from the interior. “Get in the fucking car.” He pointed at me. “Now!”

It took a second to register.

My ears knew that voice.