never expected to be saved.
I thought I'd end up back at that hellhole again, trapped and screaming in a world that had no mercy for me. And yet, here I was—on my knees, bent forward, the heat of fear radiating from every muscle in my body. A gruesome hand gripped my hair, pulling my head back, while the other pressed cold metal into my temple. My heartbeat was deafening in my ears, a chaotic rhythm that seemed too loud for this narrow room.
Then, unexpectedly, relief collided with terror.
A familiar presence came at my neck, and a voice that belonged to someone I thought I'd never see again whispered through the chaos. My body froze.
"Mitch—"
What was supposed to be a scream came out as a whimper.
Mitch moved with effortless precision. In seconds, the two men holding me hostage were incapacitated, thrown aside by movements that looked almost casual, almost rehearsed. My breath came in ragged gasps as I stared, too shocked to think beyond relief.
"It's okay. I got you."
His hands were warm as they gripped me, his thumb rubbing circles along my back. The soothing motion made my body betray me. I wanted to push him away, to scream at him for intruding, for offering comfort I didn't feel I deserved—but my muscles didn't respond. My body stayed rigid, but my heart, stubborn and desperate, leaned into him anyway.
I remained bent on the floor, holding him tight, letting the creeping dread of loneliness wash over me. He didn't hesitate—he held me tighter, as if anchoring me to something solid and real.
And then the moment shattered.
James appeared in the doorway like an unexpected shadow, his expression frozen in a mixture of shock and something else I couldn't place—pain, maybe.
"Wow… am I interrupting something?" he stuttered, his voice low, incredulous, yet carrying an undertone I couldn't read. His gaze flicked between Mitch and me, as though trying to assess the unspoken story playing out before him.
"James—No!" My voice cracked as I scrambled to stand, my legs weak and trembling. I limped toward him, panic and relief warping into something undefinable.
Before he could speak, before the words could take shape, my instincts overrode reason. I wrapped my arms around him, clutching him like the anchor I'd been searching for in the storm of my life. My heart slammed against my ribs, frantic, pleading.
James didn't move.
He stood stiff, arms hanging limp at his sides, the air between us charged and heavy. I could feel the subtle tension, the shock, the hesitation. The hug I needed—craved—was met with stillness. My desperation didn't soften him. It only made me realize how fragile and fractured our connection still was.
Mitch remained behind me, silent, giving us space, his own breathing steady, controlled. His presence was an invisible shield, a reminder that survival had so many faces. My hands clung to James's back, the world narrowing to the pulse of my own need and the quiet stillness of the man in my arms.
I wanted words. I wanted reassurance. I wanted him to pull me close and tell me it was okay. But all I got was the weight of his silence pressing against the chaos in my chest.
And in that moment, I understood something raw and undeniable: safety was complicated. Comfort was complicated. Love—even in the simplest form—was complicated.
I let myself stay in his arms anyway.
Because for now, in a world that had tried to steal everything from me, it was enough to reach for something that might still be real.
"Uhm… can we go now before someone finds us?" Mitch scoffs, his voice low but edged with impatience.
I step back from James instinctively, brushing at my clothes and fixing my hair, trying to reclaim some composure. My hands tremble slightly, betraying the whirlwind of fear and relief inside me.
"I… I need to find Cara," I say, my voice firmer than I feel. "I can't leave without her again."
Mitch narrows his eyes at me but doesn't argue. He glances toward James, then back at me, letting the tension hang in the air like a weight neither of us can ignore.
"She's probably been moved," Mitch says, his tone sharp but careful. "If we wait any longer, we might miss her."
I nod, trying to suppress the panic rising in my chest. The thought of leaving her behind, of repeating the same helpless feeling I'd endured before, twists my stomach into knots.
James finally speaks, his voice quieter than before, almost hesitant. "I'll help you find her," he says. There's a subtle tension in his tone—as if every word is measured. He doesn't step closer, doesn't make a move to hug me again, but the promise is there. And somehow, that's enough to keep me moving forward.
Mitch smirks, shaking his head just slightly. "Fine. Let's get out of here before someone else shows up. You two can hash out the drama later."
I swallow hard, glancing between them, then take a deep breath. The fear is still there, coiled tightly in my chest, but so is determination. I won't leave Cara behind—not again. Not ever.
With Mitch leading the way, James flanking me, I step forward into the unknown, my heartbeat echoing like thunder over the city streets. Every step feels like a small victory, every breath a rebellion against the fear that tried to swallow me whole.
"Alexis, wait! Look up!" James screams, his voice ripping through the chaos. I freeze mid-step, my chest tightening, every nerve screaming in panic.
When I finally see what he's referring to, my entire body shuts down. The screams of the others fade to the back of my mind, muffled by the pounding in my ears. Everything is happening so fast that I can barely process a single thing.
"Take cover!" James yanks at me, trying to drag me out of the line of fire, but I can't move. My legs refuse to obey.
"Alexis, run!" Mitch shouts, pulling a gun from behind his back, aiming at the direction the men are coming from. His hand waves frantically, his eyes wild with panic and calculation all at once.
I try to tell him that I can't move—but the words fail me. My throat closes up, and I can only shake helplessly.
Then, out of nowhere, Mitch bolts toward me. In one fluid motion, he lifts me onto his shoulder, gripping my legs to keep me from falling as he starts firing left and right. James covers him from behind, precise and deadly, cutting down anyone foolish enough to come near.
We make it behind a wall, the sound of bullets tearing through the air around us. Adrenaline surges through me, making my heart race uncontrollably, but Mitch's steady grip and the thunder of gunfire give me a strange sense of security.
"Get down!" he snaps, crouching as he reloads.
Once the immediate threat fades, we sprint toward the car. Mitch carefully puts me down on the hood, and I finally breathe again, though my body is still trembling. James walks past, casting Mitch a long, disapproving look.
"Just get over it," Mitch mutters, rolling his eyes, voice edged with annoyance. "I know you fancy her."
James glances back at him, expression tight, but says nothing. His jaw tightens, the tension in his stance speaking louder than words ever could.
I glance between them, my mind still half-focused on the fight and half on the strange, complicated bond that ties these two men together—and now, somehow, me.
I don't have time to think about it. The fight isn't over, and neither is my need to survive.