The smell of burnt rubber filled the air, mingling with the cold night breeze. Lena's heart raced as she lay on the pavement, her breath caught in her throat. The car wreck loomed nearby, its twisted metal groaning, but Antony wasn't focused on the crash. His gaze, sharp and alert, was fixed on something else—the shadows stirring just ahead.
Figures emerged—four men, their faces hidden beneath scarves and hoods. Lena's pulse quickened. Who are they?
One of them held a gun, the metallic gleam barely visible in the dim light. Lena's stomach twisted, panic rising in her chest. A gun? Oh no... Her body went rigid, fear flooding her veins.
Antony stood, calm and composed, his gaze steady on the group. His confidence seemed unshakable, but that only made her feel more unsettled. How can he be so calm? she thought, swallowing the knot in her throat.
"The Nauros family," Antony said, his voice cold with recognition. "I was wondering when you'd come."
Lena's breath hitched at the name. Nauros? The men seemed to react to the name too, their stances tightening, like predators preparing to strike.
The man with the gun stepped forward. "We've been watching. We know what you are, Anderson—or whatever you call yourself now. We've taken every precaution."
Antony didn't flinch. His expression stayed as unreadable as ever, his posture tall and steady. "You don't know anything," he said, voice laced with disdain.
Lena's hands balled into fists at her sides, her heart hammering. The weight of the gunman's presence made the air thick with tension. We're in real danger. What am I doing here?
The gunman's voice rose, shaky with anger. "You think we don't? We've seen what you've done. The Nauros family leaders—cursed by you. Our legacy destroyed."
Another man, taller and broader, chimed in, his tone bitter. "One by one, our people have disappeared, and it's because of you. You've taken everything from us."
Lena's mind raced, trying to make sense of their words. Cursed? What are they talking about? She glanced at Antony, hoping for an explanation, but his face remained stony, giving nothing away.
"We're going to end this," the gunman growled, raising the weapon. "You won't curse anyone else."
Lena's breath caught in her throat. The gun was pointed directly at Antony now, the cold metal glinting under the streetlight. No. No, no, no... Panic surged through her, and she instinctively closed her eyes, bracing herself for the worst.
But just as quickly, she heard Antony's calm voice, almost in a whisper. "Lena... stay down."
She opened her eyes just in time to see him move—faster than she could comprehend. Antony lunged toward her, pulling her to the ground as the gun fired. The sound was deafening, the crack of the bullet cutting through the air like thunder. Lena's heart was in her throat, her body trembling as she clung to the ground, her mind barely processing what had just happened.
Her eyes squeezed shut again, too terrified to look, but she felt Antony shift beside her. What's happening? she thought, the fear pressing down on her like a weight. When she finally dared to open her eyes, she saw Antony standing, his back straight, his hand extended toward the attackers.
And then... they fell.
It was almost eerie—like their strings had been cut. The men collapsed in unison, their bodies hitting the ground without a sound. Lena blinked, confusion mixing with disbelief. Did they just... faint?
Her breathing was shallow as she looked around, her mind scrambling to make sense of it. "What... what just happened?" she stammered, her voice shaking.
Antony's expression remained cool, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes. "I don't know," he said, a faint smirk touching his lips. "Maybe they just needed some rest."
Lena blinked at him, her confusion deepening. "Rest? They were about to shoot you!"
Antony glanced down at the fallen men, his face impassive. "People collapse sometimes. Maybe they're overworked." His tone was casual, as if the whole thing had been nothing more than a strange coincidence.
But Lena wasn't buying it. What is he hiding? Her mind raced as she watched him, feeling the weight of the mystery around him press in more than ever.
The man with the gun lay unconscious, his arm limply stretched out beside him. The whole group looked like puppets whose strings had been cut. Lena shuddered. "Antony... this doesn't feel right. Who are they? What were they talking about?"
Antony's face softened, but his answer remained elusive. "Like I told you before… they've made choices. And now, they're paying the price."
Lena stared at him, trying to make sense of it all. Why am I trusting him so easily? Her mind raced through her options. I could walk away. Call the police. Tell them everything—though what would I even say? 'Hey, I'm working for a man who's... different'? They'd never believe me.
She swallowed hard, her thoughts spinning. I've already taken his money. Paid my rent. Can I really afford to stop now?
Antony's calm voice broke through her thoughts, almost as if he could hear them. "You don't have to continue, Lena," he said, his gaze meeting hers, sincere. "I won't force you. You're free to leave whenever you want."
Lena blinked, taken aback by the offer. He wasn't stopping her—just letting her decide. Her chest tightened. He's giving me a way out...
"But," Antony added, his voice softening, "I've enjoyed your company. If you stay, I'd be glad." His words carried a warmth that made her heart flutter—subtle, but enough to remind her of the strange bond they'd formed.
Before she could reply, Antony called for a taxi. Moments later, the yellow cab pulled up, headlights cutting through the night. They climbed into the backseat together, and the door shut with a soft thud.
.
.
.
Inside the small space, the air was heavy, almost electric. Lena sat close to him, their shoulders nearly brushing. She could feel his presence more than ever—his calm breathing, the faint scent of his cologne. It made her acutely aware of every tiny movement. Why does it feel so different now?
The taxi rolled through the quiet streets, the engine's hum the only sound. Lena tried to steady her thoughts, but her mind kept drifting back to Antony. His words echoed in her head: "I've enjoyed your company." There was something more beneath that simple statement, something that made her chest tighten with an unfamiliar warmth.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, her pulse quickening. He looked out the window, his face lit by the faint glow of streetlights. Why does he always seem so distant... yet so close?
Her thoughts churned. I could stop now. Walk away. But... would I always wonder? What would I be giving up if I left?
The car stopped at the cemetery gates, the moon casting eerie shadows over the stones. Antony turned to her, his eyes holding hers for a beat longer than usual. "This is where I get off," he said quietly, his voice tinged with something she couldn't quite place.
Lena nodded, her throat tight. Why does it feel like a goodbye?
Antony opened the door and stepped out, but before closing it, he glanced back at her, his gaze lingering. "I'll see you tomorrow—if you choose to come."
And just like that, he disappeared into the shadows of the cemetery.
As the taxi pulled away, Lena leaned back in her seat, her mind swirling. The streets were empty, the silence only amplifying the emotions swirling inside her. The space where Antony had been now felt oddly cold, and her heart ached in a way she hadn't expected.
She stared out the window, watching the dark city blur by. What is this feeling? It wasn't just fear or confusion. It was something deeper—a longing she hadn't felt in a long time. Why do I feel like... I need him?
The taxi driver said nothing as they neared her apartment, the heavy quiet between them only broken by the low hum of the engine. Lena sighed, trying to sort through her thoughts. Should I go back tomorrow? Or should I walk away while I still can?
The taxi came to a stop outside her building. Lena reached into her pocket, but the driver stopped her with a casual wave. "No need, miss. Your friend already paid."
Lena blinked. Antony paid? When did he—? She shook her head, of course, he had.
As she opened the door to step out, the driver gave her a quick once-over, his eyes glinting with humor. "Hot night, m'lady?" he said, a grin spreading across his face. "Though I gotta say, your guy didn't look like the rough type. But hey, people got their kinks."
Lena froze, glancing down at her clothes—torn and dirty from the accident. Her face burned with embarrassment. "What—no! It's not like that," she stammered, but the driver just chuckled knowingly.
"Whatever you say," he winked, "have a good night."
Her blush deepened, and before she could embarrass herself further, she fled into her apartment building, her heart pounding from a mix of mortification and something else she couldn't quite name. What a night.