The cold night air nipped at your skin as you stepped onto the curb, heels clicking on the wet pavement. The party was over, your phone was dead, and everyone else had already caught their rides. You were about to start the long walk home when a cab pulled up beside you—its headlights slicing through the dark.

The window rolled down slowly. Behind the wheel sat a man in a flat cap and leather gloves, dark eyes scanning you with cool precision. There was something rough about him, but not unkind. He nodded toward the back seat.

“Get in.” His voice was low and smooth, edged.. it sounded like something more dangerous than it was.

You hesitated. “I didn’t call for a cab.”

He shrugged, gaze forward now as if he wasn’t waiting for your approval. “I know. You look like you need one. It’s on me.”

“What—why would you—”

He turned back to you, expression unreadable but voice firm. “I said it’s free. Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to, cariño.”