Edited

Warning: This chapter consists of sexual abuse and violence, reader discretion advised.

~Nariya Patel~

Pulling out my phone and opening the maps, I scrutinized the pinned location that supposedly led to the nearby motel. However, despite the indication on the map, there were no visible signs of its existence. Disheartened by the perceived futility of my efforts, I glanced around, hoping to find someone who could offer assistance. The city had already succumbed to darkness, making the prospect of finding another motel without hiring a cab seem daunting, and unfortunately, I lacked the funds for such transportation. Spying a small tea shop in the corner, I approached the seller to inquire about the elusive motel. After inspecting the name on my phone and then looking at me, he pointed out that the place was situated in an alley and, conveniently, he knew the owner and was willing to guide me. Although hesitant, he insisted on carrying my luggage, and reluctantly, I agreed, trailing behind him through the labyrinth of alleys.

Abruptly, he came to a halt at a small juncture, leaving me wondering if we had reached our destination. As I scanned the surroundings for any signs, all I was met with were empty walls.

“Um... I think we took a wrong turn,” I nervously uttered to his back, attempting to extricate my luggage from his grip. “You know, maybe I’ll just go to a different place.”

“You got us a fine piece now, didn’t you?” His laughter startled me, and I realized I was surrounded by a group of rowdy-looking men. My day was taking a turn for the worse, and panic set in.

“Listen, if you want money, you can have it. I don’t have much, but take everything and please let me go,” I pleaded with the predatory men closing in on me. There was no escape route, and the realization that life was more important than the luggage spurred me to lunge towards the alley that led me here, only to be blocked by one of the boys.

Their smirks disgusted me as one of them remarked, “Why settle for mere money when we can have something much better?”

“Yeah, she looks like a virgin just ripe enough, maybe we can have her and then sell her to the whorehouse.” another boy chimed to his friend.

“Or maybe we sell her first time to the highest bidder than have our way with her?” the other boy added.

“That doesn’t sound bad,” a boy said coming uncomfortably close to me before his hand went to touch my face, but before he could I kicked his groin only to hear a scream in the alley. The boy fell this however seemed to anger his companions even more, “We’ll have her here! Hold her boys!”

I had learned self-defense, but facing a group of rowdy boys, they quickly ganged up on me, overpowering my attempts to break free from their hold. Tears welled up in my eyes as they tore pieces of my clothes in the struggle. “We were going to be gentle with you for your first time,” the boy I had kicked sneered, his repulsive stench filling my nostrils as he hissed in my ear, “but you will pay for pain with much more pain.”

Crying and pleading, I begged for mercy as that boy unzipped his pants, pulling my leggings in the process. “Please stop, I’m sorry,” I pleaded, but my pleas fell on deaf ears. Greed and lust swirled in their eyes as they watched hungrily. Despite my attempts to scurry away, the tight grip on my shoulders, arms, and legs thwarted any escape. “God, please stop!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. Before the boy could even unzip his pants, a distinct sound rang out, and he fell to his side. The other boys remained frozen until a voice beckoned them to look at the alley entrance.

“Not only do you dare touch what was not yours, but it so happens to be my woman,” a thunderous roar echoed in the alley, capturing everyone’s attention. I couldn’t discern the form of my savior as my vision was obstructed by a wall of boys. “Well, I’m sorry to inform you gentlemen—well, not too gently considering what you were about to do—but the only price for such a heinous crime, unfortunately, is your life,” the playfulness in his voice returned. As he rushed toward the horde of boys.

Some of the boys rushed to confront him, but he effortlessly kicked them, sending them headfirst into a nearby trash can. One screamed as he was jabbed in the neck, losing consciousness on impact. Slowly, he stalked towards the remaining group, and they instinctively understood the power dynamics at play, many abandoning my side and retreating from this predatory force. My brain buzzed with adrenaline, everything appeared blurry yet strangely precise — his movements, his angry grey eyes, his worried frown. It all focused sharply in my perception, but his presence in front of me felt almost like an illusion. Our brains have a tendency to shield us from shocking events of the present, and it seemed like that was happening now. Even if it was, I didn’t mind having an illusion of this protective man, whom I hadjust met that morning. The expression on his face provided the most heartwarming feeling I had experienced since the death of my mother.

Tears streamed down my face as I clung to him and uttered, “You took your sweet time,” my sobs staining his trench wool coat. Sighing, he removed his coat to drape it over my shivering, sobbing self. Placing his arms under my knees and back, he lifted me up princess-style, cooing reassuringly into my ear. “I’m sorry, moonpie. I’m so sorry,” he whispered, planting an assuring kiss on my forehead. Rising to his full frame of 6"3, he walked back to the end of the alleyway. However, one last time, he glared at the cowering boys, a roar of warning ringing through, “Don’t move an inch if you value your life, for if it comes to the situation where I have to chase you,” his Russian accent thickening, “...hmm... let’s say it won’t be lovely, for it won’t end at you.” The implication was open for interpretation, but his words were not a choice; they were an order. Now, not only the lives of the boys were at stake, but also the lives of their loved ones.

With steady steps, he effortlessly carried my weight towards the end of the alley, navigating what seemed like numerous turns. My heart steadied a bit, and the cloudiness in my brain lifted as I realized that this man carrying me was indeed real. My head rested against his broad chest, and I could hear his heart pounding relentlessly. His steps were precise as he skillfully navigated the alleyways. As I thought about the recent occurrence, the reality of the situation circled in my head. Yes, he had saved me, but the ease with which he took on those rowdy boys scared me.

The dim moonlight illuminated our path as I watched him fish out his keys and open the security lock for his car. There was enough light for me to make out the shape of the car, but not its number or any other useful detail. Panic set in my brain—what if this unknown man kidnapped me and sold me? Other than his face, I knew nothing about him. Struggling a bit, my body jolting in pain, I mustered, “Please, I thank you for saving me, but this is enough. I’ll take a cab and go.”

“And where exactly will you go at this hour?” his low voice, laced with anger and a bit of concern, questioned.

“Um, my parents would be worried...” I trailed off, fabricating a lie.

“Which one? The dead one or the runaway one?” His sharp response startled me. He knew about me—was he a stalker?

Pushing against his chest with whatever strength I had left in my body, I attempted to break free of his hold. However, not only did this lead to a complete failure, but it also compelled him to tighten his grip even further, his sharp fingers digging into my flesh. His cold, grey glare made me bite my lip in fear, and with a swift kick, he opened the passenger seat door and shoved me roughly inside. A wince of pain shot through my entire body as I jumped to complain, “Listen, sir...” Before I could continue, he picked up some papers from the dashboard of his car and threw them on my face. A flutter of my lashes, and I caught the words “Legal Guardianship” flash in my vision as the title before the sheets fell onto my lap and the floor of the car.

In that split second, my senses to fight suddenly numbed, and “oh...” was all that escaped my lips when his hand grasped my face, his cold leather gloves digging into my flesh.

“Listen,” his thick Russian accent returned, “I have been very patient with you, for a week, eh? Not because I like you, but because I respected your father.” His low tone hung in the air; I knew he was still trying to be patient with me, but that level of control was already thin as a thread. “But today, your stupidity,” he spat, “has not only put you in grave danger but also cost lives of people, however worthless they might be. Now be a good girl and sit here while I go fetch your luggage, and I swear on your father that is stopping me from snapping at you, you do one more stupid thing tonight, and I will leave you to your own demise. Understand?” His grey gaze bore into me, tears pouring out of my eyes as I slowly nodded. At that, he ungrasped my face, locked the car, and walked without looking back toward the same alleyway we had exited.