I dart around the corner, chest heaving, mind racing, adrenaline buzzing like electricity through my veins.
The street narrows here—cobblestones slick under my sneakers from an earlier drizzle. My heart skips as the shadows behind me draw closer.
Faster this time.
"Not today! Not—today!" I shout, spinning on the balls of my feet—
And then my ankle hits a loose stone.
Pain flares immediately—sharp, hot, blinding.
I yelp, stumble, glance down. Blood darkens the fabric of my sock, spreading fast.
"Ohhh, come on!" I groan, hopping on one foot like a bratty kid caught stealing candy. "Stop! Thieves! You're thieves!"
The men shout back, voices rough and methodical. "Sir, calm down! You'll hurt yourself!"
I grit my teeth, wobbling, heart hammering against my ribs. "Calm down? You're chasing me like I stole the crown jewels! Stop it!"
Suddenly—
A blur of motion appears ahead.
One, two, three men barrel toward me from the opposite end of the alley.
I'm boxed in.
No, no, no—
And then.....
A fist slams into the first man, sending him sprawling across the cobblestones. Another goes down after a swift, brutal kick.
I freeze mid-hop, mouth falling open.
What… what just happened?
A man steps into view—tall, solid, sharp-eyed—moving like he was born for this. Each punch, each dodge is precise, devastating, controlled. He doesn't waste a single movement.
My chest races.
My bloodied ankle is forgotten.
I take a step closer. Then another.
Mesmerized.
Angel…
The word slips out in a whisper, trembling on my lips. God really is on my side.
I watch—completely still—as he disarms, dodges, and fights off my father's men one by one. Every move is effortless but fierce, like watching a storm made flesh.
One of the men lunges. The stranger grabs him mid-step, spins him away like he weighs nothing. Another tries to circle behind—only to find himself knocked aside by a swift, decisive punch.
My mouth goes dry.
I step closer, breath shallow, heart hammering like a war drum.
He's real. He's here. For me.
The man's dark eyes flick toward me for a brief second—
And I freeze.
Every thought in my head scatters. Vanishes.
There's nothing but awe, relief, and this inexplicable pull toward the man who just saved my life.
For a heartbeat—just one impossible, breathless heartbeat—I swear I see them.
Wings.
Massive, shimmering, stretching from his shoulders like something out of a dream or a fever or divine intervention. They catch the streetlight, glowing faint and ethereal, framing him in light.
I blink.
They're gone.
But the image is burned into my brain.
Angel.
Not a metaphor. Not a joke.
An actual angel standing in a dirty alley, fighting for me.
I… I have to… I mutter under my breath, stepping forward, but I stop again—rooted by the sheer intensity of the moment. I don't even know you… and yet… ohhh, Angel.
The fight continues around me, but I'm suspended in a bubble of disbelief and wonder.
I forget the ankle. The chase. My dad. My plans.
I've never felt so helpless.
So alive.
Or so certain that this stranger is exactly—exactly—what fate sent me.
The last of the men crumples to the cobblestones, groaning and scrambling away into the shadows.
Silence falls.
Broken only by my ragged breaths and the distant hum of streetlights.
I blink, chest heaving, eyes locked on him—the man who just turned the impossible into reality.
For a moment, the world shrinks until there's nothing but him, the adrenaline still buzzing through me, and the raw energy radiating off his body.
Before I know what I'm doing—before my mind can think stop, don't, wait—
I step forward.
And I kiss him.
A spark—hot, electric—shoots through me, and everything else dissolves.
His lips are warm. Firm. Real.
He freezes for the tiniest fraction of a second, eyes wide with shock.
Then his hand instinctively tightens on my shoulder—steadying me, holding me—
And neither of us moves.
Neither of us speaks.
The world holds its breath.
Then chaos hits again.
From the shadows, another of my father's men lunges, grabbing my arm with bruising force.
Panic flares—sharp and immediate.
His reflex is instantaneous.
He yanks me close, hoisting me slightly to his side, and we bolt down the street.
"Hold on!" he shouts, voice low and urgent, as he vaults over crates and splintered fences, one arm wrapped firmly around me.
My bag bounces against my back. My ankle still throbs. But I barely notice.
My chest is pounding—not from the run, but from the heat of his body pressed against mine, the lingering warmth of the kiss, the impossible pull I feel toward him.
"Whoa… this is insane!" I gasp between breaths, eyes wide, but they stay fixed on him. "I...don't.....know what's happening, but—"
He doesn't answer.
He just runs.
Swift. Precise. Terrifyingly capable.
Every step pulls me along, our bodies close, my heart drumming against his chest.
My thoughts tumble over each other: Angel… God… How is he real? Why is he saving me? I can't… my mind… can't think, just… just look… just look at him…
Streetlights flicker past. Shadows chase us as the distance grows between us and the men.
My hands tighten around his arm instinctively—the thrill, the fear, the longing all mixed into a heady, dizzying high.
"Just… run," he finally mutters, voice low, clipped, yet somehow intimate.
And my world shrinks even further to the sound of it.
Run… yes… but stay… stay with me, Angel.
I'm entirely lost in the man carrying me forward while the chaos of the chase fades into the background.
We duck into a narrow alley, chests heaving, hearts still racing.
The sounds of the city drift faintly behind us, but the night feels suspended—like the world paused just for us.
He finally stops, pressing a hand to his chest, eyes flicking down at me.
"What… was that back there?" His voice is low. Controlled. But there's an edge of curiosity. Something unspoken.
I blink, cheeks warming. "That?" I ask, trying to play casual even though my heartbeat is betraying me. "Oh… nothing. I—uh… sorry." I hesitate, then shrug. "Love at first sight… it kind of… slipped out. Totally my fault."
His brow arches. He doesn't move. Doesn't speak. Just studies me.
I swallow, suddenly self-conscious under that steady gaze.
I bite my lip. "Also… forgot to mention—I'm not gay."
His dark eyes soften. Or maybe it's the shadows playing tricks.
I don't care.
I'm already smitten.
We start walking again, side by side, the silence between us alive with unspoken thoughts.
My gaze follows him—tracing the broad shoulders, the strong, confident stride, the calm that seems impossible after all that chaos.
"Hey… uh…" I begin, hesitant. "Can I… stay with you?"
He doesn't answer, just keeps walking—silent, measured.
I step closer, persistence flickering in my chest. "I… I just landed in this town, don't really know anyone… and—well—my phone? Stolen. Probably by those thief-people." I fumble for words. "I can pay you, yeah, whatever you want…"
He still doesn't answer.
My lips press into a thin line. Don't panic. Don't panic.
"Please?" I add, a little pleading creeping in. "Just… just for tonight?"
He finally glances down.
That's when his eyes catch the dark stain spreading over my sock, the way I'm shifting uncomfortably, limping slightly.
Blood trickles down from my scraped ankle.
"You're… hurt," he says softly, concern threading his voice for the first time.
I groan dramatically, dropping to one knee, clutching my leg. "Ohhh… yeah… it's bad… I don't think I can… stand properly." My voice quivers—more performance than pain, though the scrape stings enough to make it believable.
His jaw tightens.
For a heartbeat, I think he might refuse again.
But then he sighs—quiet, resigned.
"Fine. Just for tonight. No more."
My grin threatens to split my face in two. "Just… tonight, huh? I'll take it. That's all I need… for now."
He shakes his head, silent, but allows me to lean on him as we continue down the street.
And in the back of my mind, between the thrum of my pulse and the ache in my ankle, one thought repeats endlessly:
He's real. And he's mine—well, at least for tonight.