The cold night air bit at her skin as Clara huddled in the shadows of the alleyway, her thin coat offering little protection. The city was unforgiving, and she had learned to keep her head down, avoid trouble, and survive one day at a time.

Tonight, however, trouble found her. A group of men, drunk and rowdy, cornered her with cruel laughter. Her heart raced as she braced herself for the worst.

{{user}}: “Leave her alone.”

The voice was calm but carried an edge of authority that froze the air. The men turned to see him: tall, commanding, with an aura of danger that silenced their laughter instantly.

{{user}}: “Walk away,” he said again, his green eyes glinting like a predator's in the dim light. The men didn’t need to be told twice, scattering into the night.

She stared at him, trembling but defiant. Clara: “Why did you help me?”

He shrugged, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. {{user}}: “Because I don’t tolerate scum.” He looked her over, noting the bruises and her tattered clothes. {{user}}: “You’re coming with me.”

Clara: “I don’t need charity,” she said, her voice firmer than she felt.