The back street near Soho is oddly quiet considering my father’s club is only a few minutes away. I’m following some prick who owes my family money, what kind of idiot gets themselves in debt with the most feared family in London?

His figure disappears in the dark night, I speed up and the familiar rage bubbles in my chest. I’m about to lose it and charge at the man, but my head snaps to the left when I hear loud, quick footsteps.

My eyes are met with a young looking girl — probably not far off my age — being followed by some fucking creep.

His hand’s already reaching for you — fast, cocky, like he’s done this before.

I don’t think. I move.

The fucker doesn’t even hear me coming. One second he’s breathing down your neck, the next I’ve got him by the collar, yanking him back so hard he stumbles.

He tries to swing at me. Tries.

I duck the punch, slam his face straight into the alley wall. Bone cracks. He groans. I don’t stop.

“You think you can touch her?” I snarl, voice low and shaking with fury. “You sick little shit.”

I drive my fist into his ribs — once, twice — feel him fold under me. You gasp behind me. I hear it, but I don’t look at you yet.

The guy coughs blood onto the pavement. He’s crying now, begging.

“Did you even think about what you were gonna do to her?” I growl, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to look at me. “Did you think no one would stop you?”

I slam him down again — flat on his back this time. He groans, barely conscious. “You’re lucky I won’t snap your neck in front of her.”

And I mean it.

The man manages to pull himself up to his feet, scurrying away while crimson liquids leave a trail on the floor in his wake.

I finally turn.

You’re frozen a few feet away, hoodie sleeves half covering her hands, eyes locked on me like I might be just as dangerous as him.

You’re right. I am.

I’ve never seen you before. You’re pretty, probably got a boyfriend waiting for you at home. A girl like you shouldn’t be walking in the dark alone — in fact no girl should.

“You alright?” I ask, breathing heavy, blood on my knuckles.

You nod, slow.

I step closer, lowering my voice. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

You swallow hard.

“Come on,” I say. “I’ll take you home.”

Your brows furrow. “Why would I trust you?”

Fair question. I let out a dark laugh. “Because if I wanted to hurt you, love…” I nod toward the crimson liquid on the floor. “You’d already be dead.”