Chapter Three
Chloe
My breath caught as my gaze locked onto a pair of icy, piercing blue eyes. So intense and unwavering, they pierced right into my soul. His breath curled in the cold air, each exhale forming clouds in the little space between us, suspending the moment for what felt like an eternity.
I should have flinched, screamed, anything. But I didn’t.
All I could do was get lost in those glacier-blues that I could somehow see clearly in the dark, while an unexplainable sense of protection wrapped around me like an invisible shield.
Then his hand started moving, sliding down my mouth as he slowly began pulling back and helped me to my feet. I swayed, my body still rattled with adrenaline, but unable to tear my eyes from him. Then, his head lifted, breaking eye contact and gazing past me.
Shit. I suddenly remembered why I was running.
My pulse spiked but before I could say anything, a hand clamped down on my shoulder.
I jerked away instinctively, raising my arm and preparing to swing but before I could, he shoved me behind him, stepping forward as if turning himself into a barrier.
I blinked up at his broad back. What the hell’s happening?
“Oi, mate. That bitch is ours.”
I couldn’t see past the stranger now standing between us, but I still felt the suggestive tone slither down my spine, turning my stomach into an ice block.
“Well, come and get her then.”
My ‘protector’ spoke for the first time, and the sound wasn’t just a voice; it was a command. A deep, powerful baritone I could feel straight through me, the kind of voice that made people shut up and listen. The kind that made anyone want to obey it without question.
The attacker sneered, defiance loud in the sound, and just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, my ears caught a metallic sound.
I didn’t need to look to know what it was and without thinking, my hands clutched the back of the stranger’s coat.
I felt him tense but I couldn’t force my fingers to let go.
I peeked around my protector’s arm and both my attackers stood in a fight stance, ready to strike any second. My eyes followed the metallic sound to the knife in the attacker’s hand, the confirmation making my breath catch.
“Please—”
I didn’t know what I was pleading for. Fear blocked all my senses.
I just want to go home.
“Stay behind me and don’t do anything stupid.” His voice hit colder, almost threatening, without even sparing me a glance.
Sneaking a look past his muscled arm, I studied his face. Completely emotionless, with a furrowed brow and steady gaze, he wasn’t just ready for a fight. He wanted one.
A whimper escaped my lips when the brown-haired guy charged us, fists raised, fury blazing in his eyes.
But he was too slow. My protector stepped forward, meeting him mid-swing, slamming his fist into the man’s face so hard it echoed.
Blood sprayed from the aggressor’s mouth as he dropped to his knees, but he didn’t get a second to recover before my defender grabbed him by the head and brought his knee up with brutal force, slamming it into his skull.
Crack.
I could’ve sworn I heard the bone break and flinched at the sickening sound.
Even before the brown-haired guy hit the ground, the tall man was moving toward my protector, running, waving the knife in every direction.
As I held a scream behind my hands, my protector ducked, preventing the blade from tasting his flesh.
In the same breath, he lunged, catching the man’s wrist and twisting—hard—until the knife clattered to the ground, an agonized scream tearing from the attacker’s throat.
I’d never heard a man scream that way before.
Then, my protector moved, fists flying fast and brutal into the attacker’s face, then his ribs, his chest, pummeling the man relentlessly. In seconds, everything was red. Blood was pouring from everywhere, and still, those hits kept coming.
I stood frozen in horror.
From the corner of my eye, I saw the brown-haired guy getting up, disoriented. He took one look at his friend, then bolted without looking back. I would’ve done the same, if I could move. But I couldn’t.
My eyes shifted again to my protector still hunched over the man. Why hasn’t he stopped?
The attacker was unconscious, his face unrecognizable beneath the steady rain of blows. But my protector still didn’t stop as if he was trapped in a trance, possessed by something dark and violent that refused to let go.
“Stop!”
The word ripped out my chest and his fist stopped midair, hovering for a second before lowering completely. My brows furrowed, shocked that he actually listened.
Rising like a beast, he stood to his full height, his silhouette slowly towering over the body at his feet. The whole scene unfolding like something out of a nightmare.
With his back still to me, he reached into his pocket, pulled out some kind of fabric, and began wiping the blood from his hands… his face… his neck. Cleaning himself so methodically that it wouldn’t have surprised me if he’d done it before.
Finally done, he dropped the stained cloth over the unconscious body.
Anticipation and fear boiled hot inside me, unsure of what he was going to do next. What he was going to do to me.
Then he turned. Run, Chloe, run. My inner voice screamed, to get out while I still had the chance, but my legs refused to move.
My breath hitched the moment he stepped toward me.
A jolt snapped beneath my skin, racing up my arms and making me fold them tightly across my chest, as if that could hold me together.
But then he stopped. His head tilted, those sharp blue eyes narrowing on me as if he could smell the fear pulsing off me.
And he was right, I was terrified.
He may have helped me, but that didn’t erase the fact that he’d almost killed a man in cold blood in front of me. What type of person did that for a stranger?
“You alright?” he asked, cutting through the silence.
His voice warmed something inside of me, but it also made my stomach coiled tight.
I could only manage a single nod in response, struggling to find my voice but not wanting him any closer.
“Did they—”
“No. I’m fine,” I cut in quickly, too quickly. I didn’t want him to say the words out loud, I didn’t want to acknowledge what almost happened.
A beat passed and then he exhaled as if he was done waiting, raising both his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“I will approach you now, sí?”
I took half a step back. “Why?”
“Because I want to.”
My mouth dropped open to answer, but no words came out.
And before I could try again, he was already stepping closer.
I did the only thing I could, I looked down, not wanting to stare back into his cold eyes any longer.
His shoes came into view, stopping just inches from mine, and my mind drifted, panic flooding fast, making me think of the dumbest things—like how I could’ve easily snapped an ankle running in these heels.
Then his hand lifted. I flinched but he ignored my reaction, pressing his fingers under my chin, tipping my face up to his. I was terrified, but his touch was so gentle I didn’t want to fight it. Our eyes met, and he held my gaze with the same intensity as before.
The darkness had faded from his blue eyes, replaced with something I couldn’t decipher, but it held me captive the same.
“Where do you live?”
What?
“Where do you live?” he asked again as if reading my mind, but sharper this time, like he was running out of patience.
I hesitated. He might’ve saved me, but he was still a stranger, one who had beaten a man half to death as if it had been nothing.
“I, ahm,” I swallowed hard. “I’ll be fine from here,” I said, forcing the words out.
He sighed, dragging a hand down his jaw, breaking eye contact for just a second.
“Do you at least have a car nearby?”
“N-No, I’ll, I—I catch the bus…”
He gave me a confused look as if I was suddenly speaking another language.
“I’ll walk you there,” he said simply, already turning to go.
“No! There’s no need for that, sir—”
“Zane,” he cut in. “Just Zane.”
Zane.
My lips twitched, wanting to smile at knowing my hero’s name, but I quickly shook my head to stop it.
“I don’t need an escort. Like I said, I’m fine.” I tried again, but my voice shook too much to sound convincing.
He didn’t even glance back. “And I don’t think I need permission to walk.”
My hands curled into fists. The arrogance of this man!
But Zane kept walking and I realized I had two choices: stay alone, waiting for my attacker’s friend to return with backup, or follow the man who had just single-handedly beaten them senseless.
I stole one last glance at the unconscious body on the ground. The guy was mutilated, his skull crushed, his face swollen, barely recognizable beneath the blood. His chest seemed to rise and fall, but I couldn’t bring myself to look long enough to be sure.
Neither felt like a great option. But my feet were already moving.
I couldn’t tell if he’d started walking slower or if my feet had quickened on their own, but a few steps later and I was right at his side.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said. “I know.”
A man of few words and louder actions. Noted.
We walked in tense silence the rest of the way and I took the opportunity to steal glances at him whenever the streetlights hit, trying really hard to make sense of him and his intentions.
Zane had a defined jawline with a nice five o’clock shadow, giving him the right amount of roughness.
His hands were tucked into the pockets of his tailored black coat, the fit screaming designer.
I’d seen enough couture to recognize quality, and no amount of expensive fabric could hide what was underneath.
Broad chest. Strong shoulders. Definitely solid. It was impressive how fast he’d moved while fighting those men while wearing fitted clothes.
Chestnut-brown hair, olive skin. He looked Greek, maybe Italian, and with the accent I’d caught earlier, it would make sense.
Dark lines of a tattoo peeked from his collar, ink trailing over the sides of his neck without touching his throat.
I couldn’t make out what it was, but it only added to the dangerous appeal.
He seemed about my age, maybe a bit older.
Heat crept up my neck and I forced my gaze to the sidewalk.
“Thank you for helping me, Zane,” I said, trying to sound sincere. Because I was. Terrified? Yes. Confused? Also yes. But still grateful.
He sneered in response, and I stared at him, my eyebrows pulling together as I tried to figure out exactly which part of what I’d just said he found so damn amusing.
“You saw what I did back there. How can you possibly think you’re safe walking with me?”
I stopped walking. He took a few more steps before halting too, turning back to face me.
“Thanking you doesn’t mean I trust you. And if you try anything, I will break your dick.” Something flickered in his expression. With… amusement? Really? What the hell is wrong with this guy?
As soon as we reached the bus stop, I quickened my steps to move far from him. “Package delivered. You can leave now.”
He made a tsk sound behind his teeth, and I wasn’t sure if he was amused or annoyed. But he leaned his fit body against the opposite glass, settling in like he had all the time in the world, his gaze fixed on me as if trying to see right through me.
“Can you at least stop staring?” I bit back.
“Why?”
“Uh, because it’s rude?”
His lips twitched into a smirk so faint I almost missed it.
“You must get yourself in trouble a lot with that mouth.”
“Oh, you haven’t heard the half of it,” I shot back with a little sarcasm.
“I bet.” he said with an amused sneer.
And I couldn’t help but smile at the sound he made. It wasn’t a laugh, not even half a smile, but there was something unexpectedly sweet in it. Maybe because he didn’t strike me as the type to ever smile.
Between the stretches of silence and quick, stolen glances, a familiar noise snapped me to attention.
With the far hiss of brakes, I moved to the edge of the sidewalk, waiting until the bus pulled up, and the doors opened.
“Tell me your name,” he said.
I hesitated, but then, I turned to face him.
Oh, why not—
“Chloe,” I said, meeting his gaze one last time. “My name is Chloe.”
“Go home, Chloe.” He gave me a curt nod before walking away, disappearing into the night as if he had never been there at all.