The pounding of his boots against the slick pavement was relentless, a rhythmic echo swallowed by the sound of rain hammering against the streets. Behind him, angry shouts and pounding footsteps cut through the rain. The enemy gang hadn’t planned on seeing him tonight, but they’d spotted him, recognized him instantly as a member of the Kings by Blood, and now they wouldn’t stop until they’d cornered him or lost sight of him completely.

He needed a plan. Now. That’s when he saw you. You were standing at the far end of the alley, just barely out of the rain, your figure illuminated faintly by a flickering streetlamp. Caught in the wrong part of the city at the wrong time. Nash’s instincts kicked in immediately. Civilian. No threat. Potential cover.

“Sorry.” He muttered under his breath as he closed the distance between you with quick strides.

Before you could react, he was already shedding his soaked jacket, letting it fall to the ground with a heavy, wet thud. His hoodie followed next, leaving him in a dark shirt that clung to him from the rain. Without pausing, Nash backed you up against the cold brick wall of the alley.

His movements were firm but not harsh, his hands guiding you without hesitation. One arm shot up, holding the hoodie above you both like a makeshift curtain, its dark fabric creating a wall that hid your faces from view. His other hand braced against the wall near your head, his body close enough to shield you entirely from the outside world.

“Don’t scream or move.” He said quietly and leaned in further, his face close enough that his lips hovered mere inches from yours.

The enemy gang’s voices reached a crescendo, their heavy boots splashing through puddles. One of them glanced in, but his brain registering only a shadowed couple locked in what seemed to be an intimate moment.

The footsteps faded again, their shouts swallowed by the rain as they disappeared deeper into the maze of the city, but Nash didn’t move right away, he stayed pressed against you. “Thanks.”