The Dark Knight

1. Meeting the Knight

“Hey—hold up,” Lucy gasped, doubling over to catch her breath. Her tight, ill-fitting “schoolgirl” costume clung uncomfortably, more a suffocating charade than an outfit. They had sprinted several blocks before she dared slow down, feeling every stitch pressing against her skin.

Jerry stopped a few steps ahead, scanning the dim, empty street for tails before turning to her. The streetlamps flickered weakly, shadows dancing across his sharp features. For a moment, she wondered if she had just met a stranger from some dangerous corner of the city.

“Thanks for what you did back there,” she said, still panting, “but it wasn’t necessary. I had it under control.”

He raised a brow, the corner of his mouth curling into a sharp sneer. “Really? Then how about we go back and test that theory, high-schooler?”

The insult stung. She straightened, glaring at him. The streetlights didn’t reveal much, but he moved with the confidence of someone who had survived the hard streets, every muscle ready to react.

He met her glare head-on, then his expression shifted—eyes narrowing in recognition, a spark of memory lighting them.

“Wait… you’re Lucy. The girl from the bookstore two blocks over, right?”

“That’s right,” she said, her guard lowering slightly. “And you are…?” She squinted at him in the half-light.

“Jerry. The guy next door. My pops fixes your plumbing in the basement. I help him out sometimes.”

“Oh—yeah. Nice.” She gave a small smile, a flicker of warmth in her tired eyes. “I’m twenty-one, by the way.” She lifted an eyebrow, teasing him.

His smirk softened into something sheepish. “Sorry about the ‘high-schooler’ bit. Your outfit threw me off.”

Unbeknownst to her, Jerry had nursed a quiet crush since he was fifteen. He had often lingered outside the bookstore, watching her through the glass panes. She lived upstairs with her aunt, orphaned young—a detail that had always stirred a protective ache in him.

They began walking toward her building, their pace slow, words coming more easily now. Neither noticed the shadow that slipped into step several yards behind them, quiet and careful.

“So,” Jerry said, “why the outfit? And what were you doing with that guy?”

Lucy sighed, the memory of Big Joe’s greedy hands brushing against her making her shiver.

“You wouldn’t understand,” she muttered.

“Try me,” Jerry said, voice low but warm, his half-smile coaxing confidence.

She hesitated, weighing his face for friend or foe. His gaze held steady, and she relented.

“That man—Big Joe—found me on a dating site. He’s been paying me to dance for his crew sometimes. But last time, he didn’t pay. Tonight, he wanted me back, and I refused. I went to tell him I quit, and he… didn’t take it well.” Her hands trembled slightly as she spoke, anger and fear mingling.

Jerry’s jaw tightened, his eyes hardening. “Guess I showed up just in time.”

“I guess you did.”

They reached her door. He gave a half-smile, already turning away.

“Alright. Be safe.”

“Sure,” she said, slipping inside, the door closing softly behind her.

Jerry lingered a moment, watching her disappear upstairs. Then he pivoted back toward the tavern. He had unfinished business.

-------

Big Joe held court in the center of the bar, the five men around him like satellites to a dark sun. Laughter and crude jokes spilled over the clinking of bottles. The air smelled of sweat, smoke, and cheap whiskey. Waitresses moved nervously past, eyes darting at the occasional shove or curse.

“So what happened to our little kitten?” Gary, loud, pot-bellied, with a beard like tangled rope, grunted, leering at the passing waitresses, slamming a hand on the bar for emphasis.

“She quit on us tonight,” Joe said, irritation cutting through his lazy grin. His eyes flickered toward the empty stool where Lucy might have been, sharp and calculating.

“Really?” Dan snorted. Everyone here knew Big Joe didn’t tolerate disrespect.

“Yeah,” Joe said evenly, though a darker glint crept into his gaze. Lucy had been his favorite for reasons he wouldn’t admit aloud, and she had crossed a line. He slammed his fist lightly on the table, enough to silence a low laugh from one of the men.

“So what now?” Ken asked, smirking, leaning back with a bottle in hand, curious but cautious.

“Teach her a lesson,” Joe said simply, a dangerous glint of cruelty in his eyes.

Harold, the only one with any trace of conscience, frowned, shaking his head. “Joe, come on—”

But Joe waved him off, dismissing him with a flick of the hand. “Leave it. You’ll see.” He nodded toward his bodyguard, who leaned in to whisper something in his ear. Moments later, the guard returned with Jerry in tow, moving quickly but with subtle ease, scanning the room as though he owned the shadows.

“Jx,” Joe greeted, using Jerry’s street name, his voice carrying both authority and amusement.

“Boss,” Jerry replied, giving a short nod, eyes sweeping over every man at the table, cataloging expressions, noting tension, weakness, and bravado.

“Where’d she go?” Joe asked, voice light but laced with steel, a predator measuring the terrain.

“Home,” Jerry answered, without hesitation, the word a small challenge wrapped in loyalty.

“Why’d you butt in earlier?” Joe pressed, his anger now visible but controlled, letting the room hang on the tension between them.

Jerry’s lips curved into a sly smirk. “Part of the game, boss.” The subtle confidence in his posture made even the rowdiest men pause.

Joe’s mood shifted instantly. Amusement replaced irritation. “Good… then you know the plan?” he asked, voice casual, but the edges sharp.

Jerry nodded—Bosco, one of Joe’s men, had already filled him in outside.

“Bring her to the tavern. Midnight tomorrow. She must suspect nothing,” Joe said, every word weighted, every pause a threat.

“Yes, boss,” Jerry replied, bowing slightly before stepping back into the night.

Outside, he inhaled deeply, the cool air washing over him. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he dialed:

“Hey, Marx,” he murmured when the call connected.

“Yeah?”

“We’ve got a job. A tricky one.”

“How tricky?”

“Double-cross tricky,” Jerry whispered, eyes scanning the street for anyone who might overhear.

Minutes later, in their shadowy hideout, Jerry and Marx mapped out the downfall of Big Joe and his crew. Jerry wasn’t just going to protect Lucy—he was going to erase the threat from the city, without ever dirtying his own hands. Charts, notes, and whispered strategies filled the room as they plotted.

By sunrise, his plan was set. And like every predator who hunted at night, he slept through the day, ready for darkness.

------

Jerry woke at 3 p.m., the memory of last night fresh in his mind. At 4 p.m., he sent Lucy a text:

Hey, my crush. How’s your day?

Her reply was quick:

Hello, handsome teenager.

Teenager? Take it back.

She teased him until she finally wrote:

Fine—hello, my handsome knight.

Better.

What are you doing? he typed.

Selling books.

When do you get off?

Why?

Want to take you out.

A date?

Yes.

Hmm… no can do.

He called her. She answered on the third ring.

“Not a date, then,” he coaxed, “just coffee.”

“Coffee in the afternoon?” she laughed.

“Lucy, I want to take you out tonight. Kindly oblige.” His velvet-low tone left no room for doubt.

“Tsk tsk… patience is an art,” she teased.

After a pause, she laughed softly. “Alright. I’ll go.”

“Good. Be ready by seven. Dress hot.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. He was too forward, too confident—and yet somehow irresistible.

-----

At exactly seven, Jerry knocked. When Lucy opened the door, he looked devastatingly sharp in a fitted V-neck shirt clinging to muscle, jeans that moved like a second skin. His gaze swept over her short, curve-hugging dress, lingering just long enough to make her pulse quicken.

He took her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “You look beautiful, my lady.” His eyes glimmered with mischief and charm.

“And you’re very handsome,” she replied, a soft blush coloring her cheeks. She felt a flutter in her stomach, noticing the way his jawline caught the light.

He smirked, leading her to a sleek jeep parked outside. The vehicle gleamed under the streetlamp, black and imposing, like a stealthy predator ready to move.

“Where’d you get this?” she asked, arching a brow.

“Trade secret,” he winked, sliding into the driver’s seat with a confident ease.

“It’s date night,” he said, voice low, pulling smoothly onto the street. “Dinner, a movie… and maybe, if I’m lucky…” He wiggled his brows, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin.

She laughed, feeling her heartbeat quicken. “We’ll see about that.”

They grabbed burgers to go, the smell of grilled meat and fries mingling with the night air. Settling into the drive-in, Jerry draped an arm over her shoulders, warm and protective. She leaned in, letting herself feel safe for the first time in weeks, laughter spilling over between them as the movie flickered.

She let her fingers brush over his hand occasionally, just to feel the solidity of him. He caught each subtle movement with a glance, small smiles exchanged that said more than words ever could.

As the credits rolled, she murmured, “My very own knight in shining armor.”

Jerry only smiled, watching the screen but thinking of the battles yet to come. Just wait until you see how far I’ll go to protect you.