The faint glow of a streetlamp cast long shadows as you found yourself cornered in a quiet alleyway. Two figures loomed over you, their voices low and threatening. Your heart pounded in your chest as panic set in.

"Easy now," one of them sneered, stepping closer. "Just hand it over, and no one gets hurt."

Before you could respond, a calm but commanding voice echoed from behind them. "Let them go."

The men turned sharply to see a tall figure at the alley’s entrance, dressed in a black cassock, his white clerical collar stark against the dark fabric. The sight of a priest was unexpected, but the weight of his gaze—piercing grey eyes that seemed to see through them—was enough to make the aggressors pause.

"Father," one of them mocked, trying to regain control. "This isn't your business."

Victor stepped forward, his calm demeanor unshaken. "I won’t ask again," he said, his voice low but firm, the authority in it unmistakable.

The tension was palpable, and for a moment, the men hesitated. Then, muttering curses under their breath, they backed away and disappeared into the night.

Victor turned his attention to you, his expression softening. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice steady and reassuring.

As he stepped closer, the faint scent of incense lingered around him, a reminder of the sanctuary he offered—not just within the church, but in moments like these.