Trusting the Shadows
1423 Words
The rain hadn’t let up—it came down harder, sheets of it soaking through what little of me was left dry. My sandals squelched with every step, mud dragging at my soles, my dress heavy and torn against my skin. Beside me, he walked in silence, helmet still on, steps measured and steady as if the storm wasn’t even touching him. The jacket he’d wrapped around my shoulders felt too big, swallowing me whole, but it was warm, and it carried that musky, woody scent that made it nearly impossible not to notice how close he was.
I hugged it tighter around me, though my hands trembled. I didn’t know if it was from the cold, the adrenaline still burning itself out of my veins, or the fear that hadn’t loosened its grip. My mind kept replaying the way those men had looked at me—predatory, hungry—and the way his fists had landed, brutal and precise, like he’d done this a hundred times before.
“You always walk around alone at night?” he asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the rain. It wasn’t a casual question. It carried a bite, sharp and edged with disapproval.
My head snapped toward him. “Do you always swoop in on a motorcycle and act like some self-righteous bodyguard?”
That earned a low, amused sound from him, muffled under the helmet. “Answer the question.”
I narrowed my eyes and looked straight ahead. “No. I don’t.”
“Good,” he said, his tone clipped. “Because it’s a dumb decision for a girl to be wandering the streets like this. Especially out here. Especially at night.”
Heat flared in my chest, cutting through the cold. “Wow,” I muttered. “Thank you for the brilliant life advice, smart ass. I’ll be sure to tattoo that somewhere so I never forget it.”
His head tilted slightly, like I’d surprised him. Then he laughed, low and rough, and the sound carried strangely in the storm. “Glad you know you’re a lunatic. Otherwise you’d be grateful I saved your ass.”
I shot him a glare, though it felt pointless—he couldn’t even see my face with all the rain dripping down. “Oh, well thank you for doing what any sane and normal human would do in that situation. Congratulations, you have basic decency.”
He stopped walking. For a second, I thought he’d had enough of me, that maybe he’d just turn and leave me there in the rain. Instead, he barked out, “You are unbelievable,” shaking his head like he couldn’t figure me out.
“Good,” I snapped back, chin lifting. “Keep it that way.” And I started walking faster, hugging his jacket tighter, ignoring the way my cuts stung and my legs threatened to give out beneath me.
But he didn’t let me storm off far. A few strides and he caught up easily, reaching out to grab my arm—not rough, but firm enough to stop me in my tracks.
“Wait.”
The single word carried more force than I expected, and for some reason, I froze. He turned me to face him, the rain sliding down the dark visor of his helmet. His gloved hand loosened on my arm, fingertips brushing over my skin, and I realized too late how cold I was. His touch was startlingly warm compared to me, his thumb grazing the edge of a bruise I hadn’t even noticed forming.
His gaze dropped over me briefly—taking in the cuts, the ripped dress, the way my lips were trembling even though I tried to press them shut. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, almost unreadable.
“You’re freezing.”
“I’m fine,” I lied automatically. My voice cracked.
He didn’t argue. Instead, he simply adjusted the jacket tighter around my shoulders, as though sealing me inside it. Then he stepped back. “Come on. There’s a place up ahead.”
I followed him because I didn’t know what else to do. My body was on autopilot, too battered and exhausted to fight. The rain made the world blur around us—trees bending under the weight of water, mud sucking at my steps, shadows twisting in the corners of my vision.
Eventually, the shape of a house came into view through the curtain of rain. Or rather, what used to be a house. The windows were shattered, boards half torn from the walls, the roof sagging in one corner like it was bowing under years of neglect. It was the kind of place parents used to warn their kids never to go near, the kind that held too many whispers in the dark.
My steps faltered. “You want us to go in there?”
“It’s dry,” he said simply. “Safer than being out here.”
Safe. The word meant nothing to me anymore. Still, the storm pushed me forward, and soon I was stepping carefully into the ruin, mud clinging to my sandals, rain dripping off me in steady rivulets.
Inside, the air smelled of dust and damp wood. Broken furniture was scattered around, and moonlight cut through a gaping hole in the roof, illuminating the space in silver.
I turned, pulling the jacket tighter around me, and finally saw him clearly for the first time.
He had taken off the helmet.
My breath caught.
He was tall—towering, even—at least six foot four. His frame was lean, built from something harder than just time in a gym. His black shirt clung to his body, soaked through, outlining every cut of muscle, every ripple of his chest and stomach. The rain hadn’t dulled the sharpness of him—his jawline looked as though it had been carved from stone, his cheekbones high, his nose straight and severe.
His hair was dark and wet, strands sticking to his forehead until he pushed them back with one rough hand, leaving it messy like he’d just rolled out of a fight and didn’t care. And then there were his eyes. Piercing, unrelenting grey. They caught the fractured light in the room and seemed to glow faintly, a storm of their own.
I swallowed hard, tearing my gaze away, heat rushing to my face despite the cold.
He glanced at me, unreadable. “Sit down. You need to rest.”
My throat was dry. I licked my lips, searching for words, something to keep the air from suffocating me. “Do you—do you have a phone I could borrow?”
He paused, then dug into his pocket, pulling out a black smartphone. He held it out without question.
I hesitated before taking it. The screen reflected my own face back at me—pale, lips trembling, eyes wide with exhaustion. My fingers hovered over the numbers. Who would I even call? I couldn’t exactly tell him I had nowhere. Couldn’t tell him the truth. Couldn’t let myself look that weak.
“Do you know… where we are?” I asked instead, stalling.
He glanced around the ruined space, then back at me. For the first time, uncertainty flickered across his features. “Not exactly. Roads out here all look the same in the dark.”
That didn’t help the knot tightening in my stomach.
But then he added, “I’ve got a friend not far from here. Place we can stay. It’s safe. Warmer than this.”
He took a step closer, and I instinctively leaned back against the broken wall. His gaze locked with mine, steady, unwavering.
“I promise I’ll keep you safe.” His voice was low, almost a vow. “You can trust me.”
Trust. The word hit me like ice water. Could I? Did I have a choice?
He extended his hand slightly, not touching me, but close enough that the offer was clear. “Let me take you somewhere warm. You can call your friend from there. Does that sound good?”
My pulse thundered in my ears. Every instinct screamed that going with him was reckless, maybe even suicidal. But another part of me—the one clinging to the only warmth I’d felt all night—hesitated.
“Okay,” I whispered finally. The word felt heavy, final.
I didn’t know if I had just saved myself… or if I had agreed to follow a psycho lunatic biker into the dark.
- Writer
