Catherine balled out her hands into fists and watched as the four men stalked toward her. Though the leader was tall, the others were of average height and build. She was pretty sure she could take one of them in a fight—but she'd be helpless against all four of them. She took a careful, slow step backward, wondering if she could still turn and run.

The men came closer, and her heart hammered frantically in her chest. Their cologne was thick and heavy in the air, mixed with the scent of whiskey and alcohol. She took a deep breath, turned on her heel, and started to run. Within seconds a hand closed around her arm, and her shoulder jerked painfully in its socket. The brown-haired leader pulled her back toward the group.

​​

"Well, boys, it looks like we have a runner," he said.

He placed his free hand on her neck, stroking the delicate skin. Her stomach wrenched, and she fought the urge to gag. The man chuckled and placed his palm flat against her throat. Slowly, he closed his fingers around her neck—choking her. Her head swam, and the dark alley seemed to grow darker. She kicked her feet and struggled, but her body grew weaker and weaker. Black spots popped up before her eyes, and the men's laughter seemed to come from far away.

"Wait for a second," a voice shouted. "Let her go."

For a moment, she dared to hope. Had someone come to save her?

"If she passes out, she won't be so much fun," the voice added.

The men laughed, and her heart sank. She was all alone, overpowered, and outnumbered. She wondered where Sophia had gone. Had she found police? Was she on her way back with help? The hand on her neck loosened, and she gagged and choked for breath.

"Why did Madison send you?" she asked, trying to stall for time. "How does she know you? Who are you?"

"You talk too much," one of the men said.

"She does," the leader agreed. "But her skin is quite soft. She looks delicious up close—you men will have fun with her once I'm done."

"Four men and one girl," she said. "What kind of sickos are you, anyway?"

"Oh, you want to know what kind of sicko I am?" the leader laughed. "Well, I'd be all too happy to show you."

He reached out and ran a cold finger across her cheek, and she jerked her head away.

"Touch me again, and you'll be sorry," she spat.

"Oh, I think I'll be the opposite of sorry," the man said. "Now, normally, I'd like to take my time with a girl like you, but I don't know where your friend has gone off to, so we'll have to make this quick."

He raised his hand and grabbed her by the throat, pushing her roughly against a cinderblock wall at the back of one of the shops. She raised her leg and tried to smash her knee into his groin, the pressure on her neck was making her dizzy. She stumbled instead, and the man just chuckled.

"Let me go," she screamed.

"Oh, don't worry, we'll let you go later," he chuckled.

"Help," she shouted. "Fire! Rape! Murder!"

A sharp, sudden slap stung her cheek. Her head spun with the force of the blow, and she bit her tongue and tasted blood.

"Don't make another sound," the man said.

She felt his body press against hers and heard the clink of his belt buckle as he released it. His hands grappled against her legs, tugging at the bottom of her dress. She opened her mouth to scream, but his hand clamped over her face immediately.

"Ah, ahh," he said. "What did I tell you about making more sounds?"

"Let her go," a low male voice shouted.

Catherine strained her eyes to see who was speaking, but the alley was too dark to tell. In the distance, she saw a tall, thin figure racing toward them. For a moment, she thought it was Sean.

"Hey, leave us alone," snapped one of the guys. "This isn't something you want to get involved with."

"I said let her go," the voice boomed.

The man passed under dim light, and his face lit up—it wasn't Sean after all. Her stomach sank. One stranger against these four men seemed like impossible odds.

"Are you going to make us?" sneered one of the men.

"In case you haven't noticed, there's four of us and only one of you," said another.

The tall man sighed and raced forward. He moved so quickly, she had trouble following him. His legs swung in low kicks, and his hands sliced and punched through the air. One of the men crumpled to the ground, clutching at his knee.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" the leader snapped. "Take him down!"

The other two men charged at the tall man, and Catherine held her breath. The man dodged their attacks easily, knocking one to the ground and then the other. He rounded on the golden-haired leader and grabbed the man by the neck.

"Is this what you like?" he asked. "You like the feeling of power? Grabbing a helpless girl by the neck? How does it feel to be on the other end of it? Hmm?"

The leader made a choking sound, and the tall man dropped him to the ground. As soon as the leader slammed into the pavement, the tall man landed a firm kick in his stomach. Moving slowly and carefully, the tall man approached her. She gasped at his face. He had the delicate but chiseled features of a movie star or model, and his eyes shone brightly from the battle.

"You need to get out of here," he snapped at her.

"Thank you," she said.

He stared at her with a cool expression, and she wondered if she'd somehow offended him.

"I mean, thank you for saving me from them," she said. "If you hadn't come—I—I."

"You won't be so lucky next time," the tall man said, his voice flat and cold.

"I'm not normally so reckless," she said. "I was with a friend. But she tried to run away for help. Are the person she found?"

"You should be more careful in the future," he intoned. "I won't be able to save you a second time."

She stared at him in confusion and then anger. A flush of rage came to her cheeks, and she balled out her hands into fists. Why was he acting so weird? And who the hell was he? What kind of tall, mysterious man with impressive fighting skills just roamed London alleyways anyway?

The man smiled at her with a strange, cold smirk, and she wondered if she'd spoken her thoughts out loud again.

"Well then," she said aloud. "Is there some way I can thank you? Dinner? Money? Anything?"

"No," he said coldly. "I don't want anything from you."

"Fine then," she snapped.

She straightened her dress, grabbed Sophia's suitcase from the ground, and turned toward the exit to the alley. Blinding lights flashed in her eyes, and a car careened around the corner. The brakes screeched to a stop, and the passenger door flew open, and Sophia stumbled onto the pavement.

"Catherine, are you okay?" she asked. "You look okay. Oh, thank god, I never should have left you."