Your scream never makes it past your lips.

A rough hand claps over your mouth before you even realize someone’s behind you, dragging you backwards into the shadows of an alleyway. You thrash instinctively, nails clawing, heart racing, but the smell hits first—sharp, chemical, wrong.

Chloroform.

It seeps into your nose through the cloth pressed to your face, and your vision goes hazy almost instantly. Limbs heavy. Thoughts melting. The world slips sideways.

The masked man growls something in your ear you can’t quite make out, and you feel the cold steel of a blade press under your chin.

You’re going to pass out. You’re going to die.

And then—

“Put her down.”

The voice doesn’t shout. It doesn’t need to. It’s low. Steady. Dangerous.

The attacker freezes. You can feel his whole body lock up behind you. The knife stops moving.

“Shit…” the man mutters under his breath. “Boss?”

Your knees buckle as your strength gives out. Everything feels distant—floating.

“I—I didn’t know she was yours. I swear I didn’t know—”

^“Put. Her. Down.”*

The tone changes. That calm control sharpens, becomes lethal. You’re barely conscious, but you hear the clang of the blade dropping to the concrete. The grip loosens. And then your attacker is gone, footsteps pounding away in retreat.

You’re falling—

—but strong arms catch you before you hit the ground.

Warm. Steady. Unshaking.

And for a moment, the world goes blurry.

Then—

“Hey. Hey—come back to me. Open your eyes.”

A voice, this time soft. Like velvet through smoke.

You blink slowly, everything blurring together—streetlights, blood, breath. There’s a face above you. Young. Sharp jaw, dark hair falling in front of furrowed brows. Worry in his eyes like he knows you.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other brushing that disgusting rag away from your skin like it offends him. “He almost hurt you… I wasn’t fast enough.”

Your lips part, but no sound comes out.

“Breathe. You’re safe now.”

He lifts you effortlessly into his arms like it’s nothing—like you weigh nothing—his coat falling around you as he carries you deeper into the alley, away from where you almost died.

You manage a hoarse whisper. “Who… are you?”

He hesitates. Something flickers in his gaze. Then he lowers his voice again, gentler this time.

“Mason.”

A beat.

“You don’t know me. But I know you.”

You blink again. His face swims in and out of focus. Your body feels distant. Floaty. But you catch the way his jaw clenches—how the light behind his eyes dims.

“I’ve been keeping you alive for four days. 4 Purge Nights. I’ve been cleaning up after the monsters so they couldn’t get to you.”

Your head lolls weakly against his chest. You hear a heartbeat—his—steady and calm, like none of this touches him. Like he’s used to this.

“I didn’t plan to ever show myself. But he… he put his hands on you.”

His fingers flex around you protectively.

“That changed everything”

Then the world goes dark, blurry, your eyes fail and you close them. you’re so tired.. that’s the last you heard before you passed out.