Chapter 99: Chapter 99
The alley was narrow.
Amara grunt under her breath for the 100th time. This was the kind of place she wouldn’t usually step into if she had a choice. Her car tyres were surprisingly flattened, and with her phone switched off, there was no way for to book a user, so she had to walk the really long distance.
She would have just stayed in, if she knew she’d go through this.
The faint glow of a lamppost bled just enough light to carve her shadow long and thin against the wall.
She wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders. The evening air cooler than she expected. She stepped out for a short drink to clear her head.
London had its beauty, yes—but nights like this made her long for something familiar. Nights like these made her wish she had a soul level connection with someone else.
"Who knows, maybe, my soul mate died," she muttered with a low chuckle, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear with a low grunt.
Her steps slowed when she noticed the figure ahead. A man. He leaned casually against the wall as though waiting. Smoke curled from his lips. Amara’s stomach tightened. She kept walking.
"Amara," the man drawled, stepping out. His accent was thick. He was obviously an Italian, or a Russian. She couldn’t place a finger on it, but she knew he couldn’t be from here. His grin tooth was missing. "You’re far from the piazza. Dangerous here."
Amara ignored him, her pulse quickening. She quickened her pace, feeling something off, but he moved quicker, sliding into her path. His hand shot out, and fingers brushed her arm.
She snapped her arm back immediately. "Don’t touch me."
The thug laughed. His laugh was loud and ugly in the quiet street. "Feisty. I like that."
She tried to sidestep, but his body blocked her again. The stench of smoke and liquor clung to his clothes. Her heart kicked hard against her ribs.
She swallowed, and stood straight. She was far taller than most average women, so she tried to be a little intimidating.
"Get out of my way," she said, forcing steel into her voice. Her edge was still there, sharp as ever but beneath it, fear scraped her throat.
With his confidence, he doesn’t sound alone. That made her more startled. Memories from the past she fought hard to bury began to forcefully crawl back to the top of her mind.
The man leaned closer, his grin widening. "What if I don’t?" he questioned, his eyes roaming all over her.
"Then I’ll make you."
The new voice cut through her fear, and steadied her. The voice was deep, calm, and familiar. She almost drew in a visible sigh of relief.
Amara’s head whipped to the side, relief punching through her chest so fast she almost staggered.
Elias.
He stepped out from the shadows, tall and steady, with his hands loose at his sides. His eyes were locked on the thug, cold enough to freeze him.
The thug’s grin faltered immediately. The thug was tall, but Elias was still a few inches taller. "Who the hell are you?"
Elias didn’t answer.
He moved, and with a quck precise twist, of the thug’s wrist, the cigarette went flying to the ground. He sharply shoved the thug against the wall and knocked the air out of him.
The man cursed, and tried to throw a punch, but Elias ducked it effortlessly, his knee slamming into the thug’s stomach.
The fight ended as suddenly as it began. The thug doubled over, coughing, and clutching his ribs.
Amara looked around, a fair share of fear and preparation in her eyes, as she searched for the thug accomplices.
Elias leaned in, murmuring something low and lethal in Italian. Amara blinked twice. They were words she didn’t catch. Even if she did, she won’t know what he meant.
She stared at Elias back, and unconsciously took a step backward. So many questions formed in her head, and each of them had a point.
Why did Elias just show up in her life?
Why was he showing up almost everywhere she went?
How did he know she was here?
How did he know this thug was an Italian?
Also, why didn’t the thug fight back?
Why does this look planned?
Or could it be she was just paranoid and overthinking? Could all of these questions just have one answer, and that answer is fate?
Whatever it was that Elias said, it drained the color from the thug’s face. The thug stumbled backward, spat on the ground, and fled down the alley without looking back.
Silence immediately filled the street.
Amara realized her hands were trembling. She curled them into fists, prepared to force them to still.
Elias turned to her, and his face shifted. His hard edges became softer, and that made her throat tighten for an entirely different reason. Perhaps, Elias could be a genuine person, while she was just an overthinking author.
"You okay?" he asked. His voice was lower now, and gentler.
Amara nodded quickly, though she wasn’t sure if it was true. "I—I was handling it."
A corner of his mouth twitched, almost a smile, but not quite. "I know. But you don’t have to handle everything alone."
He stepped closer, close enough that his presence wrapped around her, steadying her pulse. His hand hovered near her elbow. He didn’t touch her immediately, but gave her the choice.
For some reason, Amara shut her eyes, letting him. She wanted to clear those questions from her head. She needed to.
The warmth of his palm against her sleeve grounded her instantly.
"Your hands are shaking," he murmured.
"They’re not," she muttered, but her voice betrayed her.
He chuckled softly. The sound of his chuckle was so disarming that she almost forgot the thug, the alley, everything. "Then maybe it’s me."
Despite herself, she laughed. Her laugh came out as a shaky embarrassed sound that made her cheeks warm.
Elias’s eyes softened even more. "That’s better." He drew her into his arms, and kissed the crown of her head. "As long as I’m here, no one will touch you."
"You never told me you were an Italian," Amara murmured against his chest.
Elias parted the hug a little, and stared looked at her. He paused for a second, then said, "There are so many things about me you have no idea of. Now, let me walk you to my car."