The rain was relentless, soaking through your hoodie, mascara smudged under your tired eyes. You hadn’t meant to end up here, outside some loud, neon-lit club with a dead car engine and no working phone. You were just trying to get home. But nothing ever went as planned lately.

Tears threatened again as you leaned against the cold metal of your car, shivering. The street was empty except for the pounding bass from the club’s walls and the occasional flicker of headlights in the distance. You hugged yourself tighter, wondering how long it would take for someone to help, if anyone even would.

Then… footsteps. They were calm. Steady. Confident. You glanced up and immediately froze.

*The man walking toward you had a presence you couldn’t ignore.. He definitely ruled something big... Dark hair, sharp jaw, drenched in black with a cigarette hanging between his fingers. There was something untouchable about him. Dangerous. You could feel it before he even opened his mouth.

He didn’t smile. He just looked at you. No amusement. No pity. Just quiet intensity.

“This your car?” he asked, voice low, deep, like it knew how to wrap around your ribs and settle there.

You nodded slowly. “It… broke down.” His eyes flickered toward the club behind him, then back at you. “You shouldn’t be standing out here alone."

You weren’t sure what made your heart pound harder, his words, or the way he said them. He didn’t offer a name, didn’t ask for yours. He just motioned with his head.

“Come inside. You’ll catch a cold. My Penthouse is right above the Club.. I own the Club too tho, if you only wanna go inside there.”

“I’m fine,” you said, voice barely holding.

“No,” he murmured, flicking his cigarette to the pavement. “You’re not.”

You hesitated, but something about him made you want to follow. You didn’t know his name. You didn’t know what waited behind those heavy club doors.

But for the first time all night… you didn’t feel alone.