Marked by her Billionaire

CHAPTER FOUR

THE MAN WHO SAVED ME

LEXI’S POV

Pain spread through my shoulder as Marcus’s men dragged me out of the black van. My heels scraped against the concrete, my bag of chips sliding uselessly in my hands. Every step was agony, every tug of their arms a reminder that I had no leverage, no power….just fear.

The city noises faded into a dull roar, my mind narrowed to the metallic scent of danger and the sting of leather against my skin.

I tried to scream, but one hand clamped over my mouth, cutting off even the smallest protest. Panic surged. My heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst through my ribcage.

“Relax,” one of them sneered, dragging me faster. “This’ll be over quickly.”

I didn’t relax. I couldn’t. Every instinct screamed at me to run, fight, do something…..anything.

And then I heard it.

A voice, low, cold, and precise, cutting through the night like a blade.

“Let her go.”

It was calm and sounded dangerous.

The men froze, their hold tightening for just a second too long, and then chaos erupted.

I barely saw him at first. One second, I was being yanked forward, the next, a shadow moved faster than anything humanly possible. Fists slammed into the first man’s chest with bone-crushing force, elbows hit faces, and knives, glinting in the dim streetlight, flashed with lethal intent.

I screamed anyway, quietly but urgently, as the world became violent.

My captors went down like dolls. I saw them hit the floor, blood smearing across the pavement, the sound of bones breaking, of flesh meeting unforgiving metal. My mind refused to register it fully. I couldn’t comprehend the precision, the brutality.

And then he was there, at my side.

A large hand lifted me effortlessly from the ground, pressing me against a solid chest. He was strong and steady. He was like a dreaming shield.

“Stay down,” he ordered, and the command was absolute. I obeyed without thinking.

His face was hidden beneath the hood of a jacket, but his eyes were sharp, calculating, and unreadable as they cut through the dim light. He didn’t speak more than necessary. He didn’t explain or hesitate.

He simply acted, and the men who had been dragging me towards my death were now writhing in broken silence.

The van door slammed behind us. My head spun, a wave of vertigo washing over me as I clung to him. The world tilted, and I fought to stay conscious. My adrenaline, sharp and jagged, collided with terror, leaving me shaking.

“Hold on,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. I didn’t question it. I just held on.

We moved through the alleys, shadows swallowing us whole. Every sound, every distant siren, every shuffle of feet, made me flinch. My knees threatened to give up, but he kept me upright.

His grip was firm but not cruel, the kind that said he wouldn’t let go no matter what.

I tried to speak, to ask questions, but the words caught in my throat. My mind was spinning too fast, my body trembling too violently. I only clung tighter, desperate for the certainty of his presence.

The city lights finally gave way to a quiet street. My apartment came into view through the faint glow of the windows. He moved me inside, up a narrow staircase, each step careful, deliberate.

“Are you hurt?” I croaked, my voice barely audible.

He didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he examined me with precise attention, checking bruises, adjusting my jacket, and making sure I wasn’t bleeding too heavily. His touch was clinical, efficient, yet somehow grounding.

“I’ll be okay,” I whispered, though my voice wavered.

“You will,” he said, finally as calm and unreadable as the wind.

He guided me to a chair in a modest living room, dimly lit. My legs shook so badly I nearly collapsed into it. He let me settle but didn’t sit.

Instead, he moved to the window, peering out as if expecting someone. I noticed the faint scars on his hands, the way he tensed every muscle like he was ready for an attack at any second.

He said almost nothing the entire time. He did not tell me his name, nor did he give me an explanation. Just an occasional word or instruction.

I wanted to ask who he was. I wanted to demand answers, but fear had sapped my courage, leaving only awe and confusion.

Instead, I sat there, trembling, staring at him.

Trying to memorize everything—his stance, the way his shoulders moved, the cold precision in his eyes. There was power in him, lethal and deliberate, and somehow… he was mine to cling to.

After a long moment, he finally spoke.

“Stay here.”

And then, without another word, he was gone.

I sank into the chair, legs trembling, hands still clutching the bag of chips. My mind spun in a haze of terror and disbelief. My chest heaved, my ears rang from adrenaline, and somewhere deep inside, a quiet, stubborn thought began to form: this wasn’t random.

Those men wouldn’t have left me alone by chance. They wouldn’t have allowed someone else to appear so perfectly, so violently, and rescue me with no hesitation.

They would come back. And next time, I wouldn’t be so lucky.

I sat there long after he left, listening to the faint hum of the city outside. My bag of chips rested on my lap, a bizarre trophy of survival, a reminder that the night had been a gamble—one I hadn’t entirely understood until now.

Morning came too quickly. The sun’s light poured through the blinds, harsh and revealing. I swung my legs out of the chair, planning to finally eat, to finally breathe.

And then I saw it.

A small smear of dark red on my shoes. My stomach lurched.

I bent down, inspecting closely. It was fresh and not mine. But it spoke volumes.

I quickly turned on the TV in the corner as I switched it to the morning news. The headline made me freeze.

“Two Unidentified men found dead near Trick Casino.”

I whispered, trembling, barely able to process it.

“What… what did I survive?”

The words hung in the air. A question that had no answer. A question that clawed at me with ice-cold fingers.

Somewhere out there, in the chaos of the city, he was still there. The man who saved me. The one who had appeared from nowhere and dispatched death with terrifying ease.

And I knew, with a certainty that made my blood run cold, that this wasn’t the last I would see of either those men or him.