Ruthless Savior

He’s alive. I didn’t kill him. If I kept repeating it in my mind, I might convince myself it was true.

I couldn’t be responsible for someone else’s death, someone who’d shown me nothing but kindness.

Not again. Never again.

Randomly, I turned a corner, forcing myself to keep moving until I stumbled upon a suitable place to resume my journey. After all the torturous months I’d survived since fleeing from my home, I was so close to my goal. So close…

A bulky, hard body shoved me from behind, but this time, the momentum didn’t stop when I edged out of the way. The man pressed his chest against my back, driving me into the brick wall hard enough to crush the air from my chest. His weight kept me pinned, and a meaty hand closed over my mouth before I managed to draw enough air to let out a scream. My eyes rolled, searching my surroundings with a sudden burst of clarity. The fog that’d dampened my senses lifted, throwing the terrifying world back into sharp focus.

My despairing groan was trapped beneath the man’s hand. When I’d mindlessly meandered away from the bus, I’d stumbled down a narrow, dank alley without realizing.

I thrashed, desperate to throw his grubby hand off my face. He clamped down harder, griding my lips against my teeth as his palm shifted slightly to cover my nose as well. I jerked against the wall, scraping my knees on the bricks. His fetid breath was hot on my neck, a mockery of my inability to draw in oxygen.

My hands scrabbled against the rough wall, but I already knew my situation was hopeless. I'd lived through this enough times by now.

His free hand snaked around me, groping low on my belly. My body began to still and surrender; the only way I’d learned to protect myself from the worst of the damage. The sooner he took what he wanted from me, the sooner I could resume my desperate journey.

But his hand wasn’t grasping between my legs. It delved into my pocket, grabbing the cash that was my only lifeline.

Panic knifed through me, and my struggles resumed, far more frantic than before. Losing that money was as good as a death sentence. Or worse. The funds were my only protection, and without that leverage, anyone could pluck me up and use me for their own ends. If this man didn’t kill me, I could end up being the commodity, sold and imprisoned. And my next captor wouldn’t treat me as well as Raúl.

A familiar, feral snarl echoed through the dirty alley. I closed my eyes, certain I was disassociating and entering a fantasy where Raúl saved me again.

The crushing weight at my back lifted suddenly, and the grubby hand was wrenched from my face. I sucked in a gasping breath, my oxygen-starved lungs burning. My head swam from the sudden rush, but I managed to spin around. I’d intended to dash back out onto the street, but the ground tilted, and I had to lean against the wall for support.

I blinked hard, willing the wavering world to solidify around me. Because there was no way the scene before me was real. I was still swimming in my delusion, seeing Raúl’s powerful body swelling to fill the cramped alley. His massive fist slammed into my attacker’s face, and blood sprayed before the man dropped to the rank pavement. He twitched once, then went utterly still.

My savior rounded on me, his luminous green eyes fixing on me. His jaw was tight, the scar on his upper lip drawn deep on a scowl.

Despite my madness, a sob ripped from my chest as relief wracked my body in a brutal spasm. Everything was too much. Too much terror, too much guilt, too much pain.

My exhaustion rushed back in, and my knees buckled.

Suddenly, Raúl’s arms were around me, his harshly beautiful face filling my vision. His dark brows were drawn together, but his eyes seemed to glow with concern rather than fury. His mouth had softened, and I watched the thin, pale indentation of his scar as his lips moved.

A high ringing in my ears blocked out all other sound, and the world turned soft and surreal. I watched with detached interest as Raúl lifted his hand to my cheek, caressing me with tender care. My eyes stung, and something warm and wet spilled down my cheeks.

His lips twisted in a small frown, and his hand dropped from my face. Grief flooded my chest at the loss of his heat, but a strong arm remained braced around my waist, holding me upright against his muscular frame. I leaned into his strength and breathed him in.

His earthy scent suffused my senses, tugging at my mind. This was too real. His body was too solid against me.

His arm tightened around my waist, restraining rather than supporting. His free hand lifted something to his mouth: a syringe.