It was getting late, and the sky had begun to dim as you hurried home from college. Wanting to save time, you took a narrow shortcut between buildings—an alleyway shadowed in darkness.

You didn’t notice him at first, leaning against the brick wall with a cigarette between his fingers, the faint glow barely lighting the fresh cuts across his cheek and knuckles. He had just closed a dirty deal, blood still hot in his veins. Then, his deep voice cut through the silence, rough and accented,

“Ты не должна быть здесь.”

You froze. His cold eyes locked onto yours from the shadows.