Chapter 13
1207 Words
Alex’s POV
There was something in the air—thick, heavy, wrong. Like a warning.
She stepped forward.
Instinctively, I backed away, my heartbeat picking up speed.
Everything about her screamed danger—from the slick darkness of her hair to the way her heels clicked against the floor like gunshots. She didn’t walk. She owned the ground beneath her.
“Who are you?” I asked, my voice unsteady.
She c****d her head slightly, her lips curling into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“You already asked that,” she said coldly. “And I hate repeating myself.”
Each step she took made my skin prickle. She wasn’t just intimidating—she was terrifying.
Suddenly, a door creaked open behind her.
Damian walked in, his face smeared with dirt and blood. My body jolted toward him instinctively, but before I could reach him, a large man grabbed me from behind, his arms like steel.
“Let me go!” I shouted, thrashing, but his grip only tightened.
The woman stopped just inches from me. Her breath mingled with mine, icy and calm. Her eyes scanned my face like she was searching for something—like she could see right through me.
I held her gaze. My body trembled, but I refused to look away.
“Who the hell are you?” I asked again, louder this time, sharper.
She leaned back and exhaled slowly, almost amused.
“I don’t like repeating myself,” she said again.
I narrowed my eyes. “And I don’t care. You think you’re scary? You’re not. You’re just hiding behind theatrics and muscle. So let me ask again—who do you think you are?”
That made her pause. Her smile faltered.
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” she said, voice low and dangerous.
My chest tightened, but I stood tall.
“I’ve dealt with monsters before,” I snapped. “You won’t be the last.”
Then, without giving it a second thought, I raised my foot and slammed it into the man’s groin. He let out a sharp cry and dropped like a rock, clutching himself in pain.
The woman blinked in surprise. She hadn’t expected that.
I stumbled forward, regaining my balance. My blood surged with adrenaline. She stepped back, her confidence cracking just slightly as I advanced towards her.
I looked at Damian.
He was barely conscious, his face pale and drained of color. Seeing him like that twisted something deep inside me.
I remembered what it felt like to be powerless. I remembered being the weak girl—mocked, discarded, betrayed. The girl whose own stepmother sold her off just to pay a debt that never even existed.
Never again.
“You think you’re strong enough to face me, Alex?” the woman sneered, her eyes narrowing.
I stared straight into her cold gaze, my expression unreadable—but inside, I knew exactly what I was about to do. She didn’t scare me. Not anymore.
Her voice didn’t shake me. In fact, the more she spoke, the weaker she seemed.
“Hey, you,” she called, turning to the man who was still gripping Damian by the arm like some hired muscle.
My gaze flicked to him too, sharp and deliberate. I gave him a look that could cut glass—a silent promise of what would happen if he tried anything with me.
“Do something,” she snapped at him, frustration building in her tone.
He clenched his jaw and stepped forward, cracking his knuckles, clearly preparing to take a swing at me.
I didn't flinch.
“You really want to end up worse than him?” I asked, voice steady and cold.
He hesitated, but then moved toward me, forming his fists like he meant business.
But so did I.
He lunged at me, fist c****d back with all the confidence of a man who thought I would break at the first hit.
He was wrong.
I dodged, fast and low, the air slicing past my ear as his punch missed by an inch. I used his momentum against him—grabbing his outstretched arm and driving my knee into his ribs. He grunted, stumbling back, pain flashing across his face.
But he wasn’t down yet.
The womn,just stood there watching, lips curled in a smug smile, as if this was entertainment for her. Her gaze drifted to Damian again, and something about the way she looked at him made my blood boil.
The man charged again.
This time, he wasn’t holding back. He swung wildly, aiming for my face. I ducked, spun behind him, and kicked the back of his knee. He dropped for a second, and I seized the moment—delivering a swift, brutal elbow to his jaw. He hit the floor hard, groaning and holding his face.
I didn’t give him a second look.
I turned to the lady, my chest rising and falling, breath shallow but fierce. “Is that all you've got?” I asked, voice sharp as steel.
She let out a smirk faltered just slightly. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth,” she said, pulling something from the folds of her coat.
A gun.
The room shifted. My heartbeat thudded in my ears. Damian let out a weak cough behind me.
“I should’ve just shot you from the start,” she said, pointing the gun directly at my chest.
I stood still, calculating. The distance between us. The weight in her hand. Her posture—she’d never had to actually pull a trigger herself, had she?
“You think that scares me?” I said quietly.
“No,” she replied, c*****g the hammer, “I think it ends you.”
Before she could move—before her finger even reached the trigger—I grabbed the fallen man’s gun from his belt. I moved fast, aiming and firing at her hand.
The shot rang out like thunder.
Her weapon clattered to the floor, her fingers grazed by the bullet. She screamed in shock and pain, clutching her bleeding hand, stumbling backward.
“You stupid b***h!” she shouted.
I stepped forward, picking up her gun from the ground. I kept both weapons aimed, one in each hand, breathing hard. The power surged through me—not because I had the guns, but because I wasn’t afraid anymore.
“You messed with the wrong girl,” I said, my voice low and deadly.
She glared at me, furious and wounded, but no longer smug.
Behind me, Damian coughed again, weakly.
I turned quickly and rushed to him, dropping to my knees beside him. “Damian,” I whispered, cupping his cheek.
He blinked up at me, dazed. “You… came for me…”
“Of course I did,” I said, brushing the hair from his face.
Behind us, Diana made a noise—a furious shuffle of movement. I spun around, ready to fire again if she dared try anything. But she didn’t.
She was crawling toward the door, bleeding and broken.
And I let her go.
For now.
Because this wasn’t over.
But I had Damian, and I wasn’t leaving without him.
- Writer
