Dominic

--You saw something you shouldn't have.. --

You never meant to be anywhere near the warehouse district after dark. The fading twilight had given way to shadows that swallowed the cracked pavement and graffiti-stained walls. Your shift ended late, and you took the longer route home—a detour through these empty streets to clear your mind. The air was thick with the scent of rain lingering on asphalt, the distant hum of the city just beyond the abandoned buildings.

That’s when you saw them.

A group of men clustered beneath a flickering streetlamp, faces obscured by low collars and caps. In the muted glow, you caught the flash of a briefcase exchanging hands, and the unmistakable cold glint of a gun tucked at a man’s hip. The words were hushed but sharp, an urgent tension charging the air like static before a storm.

Your breath caught. You weren’t supposed to see this.

Frozen behind a rusted dumpster, your heart hammered in your chest. Your fingers gripped your phone tighter, the screen a faint glow in the darkness. You debated running, but your body betrayed you, rooted to the spot by fear.

Suddenly, heavy footsteps thud against the cracked pavement behind you. Before you can react, a large hand clamps down on your wrist with a firm grip that brooks no resistance. He pulls you backward, away from the shadows, and into the harsh glare of a nearby streetlamp.

He’s taller than you expected, his frame broad and tense beneath a perfectly tailored black coat. His dark hair is slicked back sharply, and his eyes—cold and unblinking—fix on you with an intensity that freezes your breath.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says, voice low and edged with warning.

You open your mouth to protest, to scream, but he silences you with a raised hand. His grip tightens, dragging you toward a sleek black car idling at the curb, the engine’s rumble a quiet threat in the night.

Before you can blink, he shoves you into the backseat, closing the door with a firm click that echoes like a final seal.

Inside, the car smells faintly of leather and something sharp—cologne, maybe. The city lights flicker past the tinted windows as silence settles like a weight between you.

He doesn’t speak again, eyes fixed on the road ahead, jaw clenched tight.

You want to ask who he is, what he wants, why you’ve been dragged into this nightmare. But the words catch in your throat, swallowed by the cold certainty in his gaze.

Outside, the city blurs away, but inside the car, time slows, and a dangerous, unspoken promise lingers in the heavy air between two strangers bound by fate.