Chapter 13 — The Alley
By the time I stepped out of the front doors, the campus had emptied into night.
Julian walked beside me without trying to fill the quiet.
No jokes.
No questions that felt like an interrogation.
Just his pace matching mine, his gaze scanning the street like it was a habit.
At the crosswalk, he paused.
“Which way?” he asked.
I pointed.
He nodded, as if that settled something important.
We reached the corner where the streetlights grew sparser.
The neighborhood changed texture—fewer storefronts, more dark windows, a longer stretch between sounds.
Julian slowed.
“This part’s dead,” he said. “You usually walk this alone?”
I opened my mouth and almost lied.
Then I remembered Noah’s text: **Stop.**
“I usually… don’t,” I said.
Julian didn’t press.
He only said, “Okay. Then you won’t tonight.”
Half a block later, a voice slid out from the mouth of an alley.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
The words were too casual.
Three figures stepped into the light, and it hit them wrong.
Too thin. Too restless.
Eyes bright in a way that didn’t look sober.
One of them smiled with teeth that didn’t match the smile.
“Lost?” he asked.
Julian moved without thinking.
He stepped slightly in front of me, not touching me, not grabbing—just blocking.
His voice stayed calm.
“We’re fine,” he said. “Keep walking.”
The man laughed.
“Why you acting like a hero?” he asked, and the word hero came out dirty.
My stomach dropped.
I reached for my phone inside my pocket.
A hand shot forward and grabbed my wrist hard.
Pain sparked.
The alley swallowed us in one pull—like a curtain closing.
A second hand covered my mouth.
The smell hit first.
Sweat. Smoke. Something sour and chemical underneath.
A blade flashed in the streetlight’s edge.
My breath caught.
Julian’s voice cut through, sharp.
“Get your hands off her.”
Someone shoved him.
He hit the wall with a dull thud.
I tried to bite the palm over my mouth.
The man swore, slapped my cheek hard enough to make my ears ring.
“Try that again,” he hissed, “and I’ll take your teeth.”
My vision blurred.
In the blur, I saw Julian’s silhouette move.
Not reckless.
Focused.
He lunged.
The first punch landed.
Then the second.
A body fell.
Someone shouted.
Metal scraped.
The knife swung toward Julian’s side.
I heard a sound like fabric tearing.
Julian grunted, but he didn’t fold.
He grabbed my arm and shoved me toward the mouth of the alley.
“Run,” he snapped. “Evie—run!”
His voice used my name like a command.
I stumbled out into the open street.
The cold air hit my face like a slap.
My legs moved before my mind caught up.
I ran.
My shoes slapped wet pavement.
Behind me, someone yelled.
Footsteps chased.
I didn’t turn.
I ran until my lungs burned, until my vision tunneled, until the street widened into a brighter intersection.
Then I ducked behind a parked car and finally pulled my phone out.
My fingers shook so hard I hit the wrong numbers twice.
When the operator answered, my voice sounded like it belonged to someone else.
“I need police,” I said. “Now.”