Chapter Ten: The Chaos and the Protector
The night air was cool and crisp as I walked back to the dorm, still tasting the sweetness of the café and the warmth of our conversations. My lavender dress swayed lightly with each step, my hands clutching my small purse a little too tightly. The streets were quiet at first, the city dimly lit with amber streetlamps and scattered neon signs.
But as I turned onto the main avenue, the quiet shattered.
Screams erupted ahead—sharp, urgent, chaotic. People ran in all directions, voices cutting through the night like jagged glass. I froze, heart pounding, unsure where to go. Something political, I realized—a demonstration or protest, maybe a clash between factions. I wasn't sure. I only knew the panic in the air made my stomach twist into knots.
I tried to step back, but a sudden surge of the crowd pushed me forward. Hands pressed against me from every direction, bodies colliding, pushing, shoving. I stumbled, my heels catching on the uneven pavement.
The sharp clink of a fallen glass cut through the cacophony. I froze as I realized I was alone—completely surrounded by chaos.
"Excuse me! Move!" someone yelled. A voice close by. Then another. Shouts, coughing, a loud crash, the unmistakable sound of panic.
Tears pricked at my eyes. My hands shook violently. I could barely think. I tried to push through the throng, but the crowd was relentless, moving faster than I could, carrying me along like a leaf in a storm.
I was terrified. Every instinct screamed at me to run, to escape—but the sheer force of the crowd trapped me, pressed me against strangers, hands clawing at my arms, coats brushing my face. My breath came in short, rapid bursts.
Then—I felt it. A sudden, solid force.
Someone pressed against me from behind, strong arms wrapping around my waist. My body jerked, startled, and I tried to turn, to push away.
"Let go!" I shouted, panic rising. "Help! Someone—!"
The crowd surged again, muffling my voice. And then—a firm hand covered my mouth, soft but unyielding. I struggled, fear ripping through every nerve. My mind raced. Who was this? A stranger? A kidnapper? A criminal?
The world blurred. My pulse thundered in my ears. I felt the warmth of a body behind me, steady and solid.
And then… a voice, low and calm, cutting through the chaos like a blade.
"Shh… it's me, Aira. Stay with me. Don't fight."
The name. My heart skipped a beat. Rowan.
I froze, my body trembling—not from fear now, but from relief, disbelief, and a flood of emotion I couldn't name. The chaos around us faded into a dull roar as I felt his presence, the warmth of his arms, the solid certainty of him holding me safe.
My struggles ceased, replaced by a shaky exhale. "Rowan…" I whispered, voice breaking.
He turned me gently, hands firm on my shoulders, lifting my face so our eyes met. His gaze—dark, intense, and completely focused on me—cut through every lingering shred of panic.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice soft but edged with steel.
I shook my head. "No… I… I thought—" My words faltered, the fear and adrenaline crashing into relief.
"I've got you," he said simply. And before I could respond, his lips brushed mine—a kiss so unexpected, so warm, so grounding that it silenced everything in me.
The crowd, the screams, the chaos—they didn't exist anymore. Only him. Only Rowan.
I melted into him, pressing my hands to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath the crisp fabric of his shirt. My body relaxed completely for the first time in what felt like years.
"Don't ever leave me," I whispered, voice trembling.
"I won't," he replied, his jaw tight, his arms tightening around me. "Not tonight. Not ever."
We stayed there in the alley, wrapped in each other's presence, breathing in the night, tasting the quiet after the storm. I could feel his strength, the controlled intensity that usually made me nervous, now acting as a shield. I clung to him, afraid that if I let go even slightly, the world would rush back in and snatch him away.
Finally, Rowan pulled back just enough to look at me fully, his hands lingering at my waist, fingers brushing the fabric of my dress. "You shouldn't be out here alone," he said, almost more as a statement than a question.
"I… I didn't expect…" I trailed off, cheeks still warm, chest still racing. "I didn't know what to expect."
He smiled faintly—a rare softness that only I had ever glimpsed. "You're not used to being protected. Not like this. Not by someone who actually cares."
"I… I've never…" My voice faltered again. I realized just how unpracticed I was in this kind of attention, in this kind of closeness. "I've never had… someone care like that."
His gaze softened even more, dangerous yet tender all at once. "Then you'll have to get used to it," he murmured.
I wanted to respond, but words failed me. My lips parted slightly, my chest rising and falling rapidly, every nerve ending alight with sensation. The cold night air didn't touch me, didn't matter. Only him. Only the strength of his presence, the warmth of his body, the safety of his arms.
He slowly guided me out of the alley, his hand brushing lightly along my back, protective but not overbearing. The streets were still noisy, chaotic, but now I felt… anchored. Safe.
When we finally reached the quiet street leading to my dorm, he stopped. Hands still resting on my waist, fingers brushing against my sides lightly. I could smell the faint cologne mixed with his natural scent, the unmistakable presence of him.
"You can let go now," he said softly.
I stayed for a moment longer, unwilling to break the connection. Finally, I leaned into him one last time, resting my head briefly against his chest. "Thank you," I whispered.
"Always," he said.
Then, he let me go. Just enough to guide me safely into the dorm building. I walked up the stairs slowly, heart still pounding, palms still tingling from the warmth of him.
When I reached my room, I collapsed onto the bed, hands still trembling. My mind replayed the kiss, the touch, the strength in his embrace. My first thought wasn't fear or confusion—it was desire, innocent, yearning, and completely unprepared.
Rowan… he had saved me from chaos, from fear, from the crowd, and in doing so, he had stolen a little piece of my heart too.
And somewhere, far off, I knew he was watching. His dark eyes had followed me through the alley, ensuring I was safe, ensuring I knew—without words—that I belonged, for tonight at least, entirely in his care.
For the first time, I realized that fear could coexist with desire, that danger could make a heart race in ways no coffee or laughter ever could. That the man who terrified me in his strength could also be the one who made me feel, for the first time in years, completely alive.
I didn't know what would happen next. I didn't know how far this connection would go, or how much I could trust it. But I did know one thing: Rowan Royce had entered my life, and I had no desire to let him go.