CHAPTER 6
933 Words
Arthur approached the building with cautious steps, his instincts on high alert.
The place was a rugged, decayed structure, barely standing under years of neglect.
The walls were cracked, exposing layers of peeling paint and mold, while the wooden door hung loosely on rusted hinges.
The faint flicker of light from inside barely illuminated the grimy floor, littered with cigarette butts and broken glass.
A strong stench of dampness, alcohol, and sweat filled the air, making Arthur’s stomach churn.
He reached the door and turned the handle—it was unlocked.
Carefully, he pushed it open and slipped inside unnoticed.
The living room was dimly lit, with an old, flickering bulb casting eerie shadows on the walls.
The furniture was torn, and empty beer bottles were scattered across the floor.
A cracked television sat in the corner, creating a low, unsettling buzz.
In the middle of the room, five burly men stood in a circle, grinning wickedly at the terrified young woman tied to a chair.
Her hair was disheveled, her face streaked with tears, and her wrists were bound tightly with thick ropes.
She struggled, but the men only laughed.
One of them—a man with a crooked scar running down his cheek—leaned in close, gripping her chin roughly.
“You thought you could refuse us? Too bad, sweetheart. We’ll have our fun first—then we’ll decide whether to let you live.”
The other men chuckled darkly.
The woman whose voice was already hoarse from crying, pleaded desperately.
“Please, let me go! I swear I have nothing to give you!”
The scar-faced man sneered.
“Since you've refused to give us your money, we’ll take something else.”
Just as the men moved closer, Arthur stepped forward with a loud and firm voice.
“Let her go. Now!”
The men froze, turning sharply toward the sound of the voice.
Their expressions shifted from amusement to fury.
“Who the hell are you?” one of them snarled.
Arthur took another step forward, his gaze unwavering.
“Your worst nightmare if you don’t back off.”
The scar-faced leader let out a cruel laugh.
“Looks like we’ve got a hero here, boys.” He cracked his knuckles.
“You must have a death wish, barging into our place like this!”
Without another word, the five men lunged at Arthur.
Arthur sidestepped the first attack with lightning speed, catching the thug’s wrist and twisting it hard.
A loud snap echoed in the room as the man howled in pain, dropping to his knees.
The second attacker threw a punch, but Arthur ducked and drove his elbow into the man’s ribs, sending him crashing into the broken table.
Two more rushed him at once.
Arthur spun on his heel, delivering a powerful roundhouse kick that sent one flying backward.
The other managed to grab Arthur’s shirt, but Arthur pivoted swiftly, grabbing the man’s arm and flipping him over his shoulder.
The thug landed hard, groaning in agony.
The scar-faced leader charged at Arthur with a knife.
Arthur caught his wrist mid-strike, twisted it, and slammed the back of the man’s head into the wall.
The man collapsed, dazed.
Arthur took a deep breath.
In just seconds, all five men were sprawled across the floor, groaning in pain.
He rushed to the young lady and began loosening her ropes.
As Arthur knelt beside her with his hands working swiftly to loosen the thick ropes cutting into her wrists, he finally got a proper look at her face.
For a moment, he almost forgot the danger they were in.
She was breathtaking!
Her fair skin, smooth and unblemished despite the ordeal, seemed to glow under the dim, flickering light.
He noticed her long, dark lashes framed striking emerald-green eyes.
They held a mixture of fear and gratitude.
Her lips looked full and soft, a natural rosy hue, as though they had never needed any artificial enhancement.
Her long, wavy chestnut hair tumbled over her shoulders in silken cascades, some strands falling across her face.
Arthur instinctively reached up to brush them aside with his fingers grazing her skin for a fleeting second.
Warm. Soft. Like the finest silk!
Arthur had seen beautiful women before—Isabelle had been one of them.
But this woman's beauty was completely different; nothing compared to Isabelle's!
For the first time in a long while, Arthur felt his pulse race for a different reason.
His body tensed, and he wanted to hold her, to let his fingers trail against her porcelain skin.
For a moment, Arthur forgot himself.
But then—a sharp frown creased the lady's delicate features.
Her brows furrowed, and she jerked her wrists away from his grip.
Her expression turned cold, irritated by the intensity of his gaze.
“What?” she snapped with her eyes narrowing.
Arthur blinked, snapping out of his trance.
His face hardened, and he quickly looked away, cursing himself for getting distracted.
What the hell was he thinking?
This wasn’t the time to admire a woman’s beauty. She needed rescuing, not his foolish stares.
Clearing his throat, he straightened his back and took a step away.
“We need to leave. Now.”
But just as they were about to leave, a chilling sound filled the room.
Click. Click.
Arthur looked up to see two of the men back on their feet, pointing guns at him.
The scar-faced man, blood trickling from his forehead, smirked.
“You shouldn't have meddled in what wasn't your business, hero. Now, we’ll teach you a lesson!”
- Writer
