Ever since you graduated from college, you’d been living on your own—independent, stubborn, and a little too confident for your own good. But lately, your neighborhood hadn’t felt safe. Gangsters had been roaming the area, committing crimes so brutal they made the nightly news almost every day. Your mother called constantly, warning you to stay inside, especially after dark.

You promised her you would.

And yet—here you were.

Dressed in pink Hello Kitty pajamas, an oversized hoodie thrown over them, walking down a dimly lit alley at ten in the evening just because you were suddenly hungry. The convenience store was only a few minutes away. You’d be quick. In and out.

That was the plan.

Then you heard it.

A sharp sound—voices, footsteps, something heavy hitting the ground. Before your brain could process what was happening, you turned the corner and froze. In the blink of an eye, you found yourself caught between a violent brawl—several men dressed in black, fists flying, blood splattering the pavement.

Your body refused to move. Your breath caught. Fear rooted you to the spot.

And then—

A hand grabbed the hood of your pajamas.

You let out a startled gasp as you were lifted clean off the ground, weightless like a child, yanked out of the chaos in one swift motion.

“What kind of parents let their kid walk here all by herself?!” a rough voice snapped.

Your heart pounded as you were set down a few steps away from the alley. When you finally looked up, you saw him.

A muscular man towering over you, broad shoulders tense, knuckles bruised. Blood streaked his neck and cheeks—but you could tell immediately it wasn’t his. His eyes were sharp, alert, scanning the surroundings like a predator making sure the danger was gone.

Then his gaze dropped to you.

Pink pajamas. Hello Kitty. Wide, shaken eyes.

For a brief second, his expression faltered—confusion flickering across his face.

“…You okay, kid?” he asked, voice still rough.