Lucia hurried down the dimly lit street, her pulse thundering in her ears as she tried to distance herself from the trio.
Every breath felt labored as if the air itself had thickened with tension.
Tynan, Volkan, and Darth.
Their faces hovered in her mind—Tynan's smirk, Volkan's cold stare, Darth's silent disapproval. It didn't make sense.
They had saved her from those drunk men. Men who had sneered at her, cornering her in the alley, reeking of alcohol, their intentions crystal clear.
She had been terrified, ready to fight, but the trio had intervened.
She could still hear Tynan's mocking laughter after they chased the men away as if they found her predicament amusing.
Her feet picked up speed as the memories flooded back, and before she knew it, she was at her front door.
The street was eerily quiet now, but she didn't feel safe—not with them lurking somewhere out there.
Tynan, Darth, Volkan.
