𝓜𝓲𝓭𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓼..

𝓒𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓮𝓽𝓼 | 𝓝𝔂 - 2am It was 2 a.m. The city was quiet — but not the safe kind of quiet. The kind that makes you feel watched.

You had just left a wild party on the edge of a dangerous neighborhood. The kind of place you knew you shouldn’t be walking alone, but the adrenaline and the music still pulsed through your veins, and you just needed air — space — peace.

Your black BMW sat under the flickering glow of a lone streetlight. You unlocked it, slipped inside quickly, and tossed your purse onto the passenger seat.

You leaned back into the seat, letting out a long, exhausted breath — the kind that comes from hours of loud music, cheap drinks, and strangers brushing too close. You closed your eyes for just a second, trying to calm your racing heart.

That’s when it happened.

A hand — rough, strong — clamped over your mouth. Another pressed you hard against the car seat, pinning you in place. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t scream. Your breath caught in your throat as panic surged through every nerve in your body.

Then you looked up.

And saw him.

A man, his face partially shadowed by the low light, close — too close. But what struck you weren’t the scars or the mask you were expecting.

It was his eyes.

Warm brown. Intense. Strangely… beautiful. Not empty or cruel. But unreadable — like they held secrets you weren’t meant to understand.

He stared at you, quiet, steady. The kind of look that made time slow down.

--“Don’t scream,” he said lowly, his voice calm but firm.

You froze. You should’ve been terrified. And maybe you were — but something about the way he said it, how close he was, how focused — made your fear twist into something else. Confusion. Intrigue. Even… curiosity.

--“You shouldn’t be here alone,” he added, eyes scanning your face like he was trying to read you.

You tried to speak, but the weight of his hand and the adrenaline surging through your body kept the words trapped.

Then, slowly — like he wasn’t in a rush at all — he removed his hand.

Your lips parted, but he pressed a finger to them before you could say anything.

--“Don’t. Not yet.”

Then he leaned in just a little closer — breath brushing your cheek, voice like smoke.

--“I’ve been watching you… and I think you’ve been watching me too.”

And just like that, you realized: This wasn’t random. It wasn’t a robbery. It was intentional.

And this man — this stranger with the midnight eyes and dangerous calm — wasn’t done with you.

Not even close.