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Chapter 249:
🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙
“Miss, walking alone is so boring. Why don’t you play with us brothers?” the man in front, one with a scar on his face, said menacingly.
I calmly sized them up. Both had the build of brawlers—broad shoulders, thick necks, the kind of muscle that came from bar fights rather than training. But their stances were sloppy, their weight uneven. Their breathing was too quick, too shallow—nerves, not discipline. Not professional killers. Just bullies who knew how to corner someone in a dark alley. Against two of them, I might hold my own for a while. But I wouldn’t win.
“Who sent you?” I asked coldly.
“You’ll know when you come with us,” the other man said with a smile, pulling a thick rope from his pocket.
They closed in on me. I reached into my handbag, my fingers closing around the small scalpel I always carried. It was my last line of defense.
Just then, footsteps sounded at the entrance of the alley. A few passersby looked in curiously.
I saw my chance and was about to scream for help.
The scarred man, Mack, suddenly put on a pained expression and shouted to the onlookers, “Everyone, don’t misunderstand! This is my wife! We had a fight and she ran away from home. I’ve been looking for her for days! Honey, stop making a scene and come home with me!”
As he spoke, he reached out to me, his face a mask of “loving” pleading.
𝗬𝘰𝘂𝗿 𝘥𝗮і𝘭𝗒 d𝗈𝘀e o𝘧 nо𝘃𝘦𝘭𝗌 𝗈𝗻 𝗴𝗮ln𝗼vе𝘭s.𝘤𝗈m
I was stunned by his shamelessness.
Hearing it was a “domestic quarrel,” the curiosity on the onlookers’ faces immediately turned to understanding and embarrassment.
“Oh, so it’s a couple’s quarrel.” “Young people these days, always so dramatic.” “Go home, girl, don’t make your husband worry.” They murmured among themselves and turned to leave.
A few kind-hearted older women even advised me, “Girl, couples shouldn’t hold grudges overnight. Go back with your husband.”
Just like that, in broad daylight, they had used the lie of a “domestic dispute” to successfully isolate me.
I watched their retreating backs, a bone-chilling coldness creeping over me.
The grins on Mack and Dale’s faces grew wider. They knew no one would disturb them now.
“Alright, honey, the game is over,” Mack said, lunging at me to grab my arm.
I took a step back, the scalpel in my hand ready to slice his artery. I would rather die than be humiliated.
At that critical moment, a clear, angry young male voice, like a bolt of lightning, shot from the alley entrance.
“Stop! Let her go!”
Haven Kramer POV
A voice cracked through the tense air like a whip.
“Stop! Let her go!”
My heart hammered against my ribs. My head snapped toward the alley entrance, the scalpel still clutched tight in my hand.
I recognized him—Sonny Sawyer, the young property agent. He stood there in his ill-fitting, cheap coat, face pale with terror, but his eyes were blazing.
He was just a boy, really. Thin. Scared. But he was standing at the mouth of the alley like a guardian.
.
.
.