Chiara’s POV

My heart has never beat so fast before in my life. I have never felt so much fear and adrenaline all at once. I felt cold even though massive beads of sweat were trickling down my pale skin. How unfortunate could I possibly be? Why did this have to happen to me? What wrong have I done to live such a horrible life?

What did I do to deserve to be treated this way? I was fleeing for my life like a dog. No, I would never speak about myself in such a manner. The men chasing after me with hungry looks in their drunken eyes were the dogs, not me. They were disgusting. All men were disgusting.

I do not care if you think I am exaggerating. I was entitled to my own opinions and mine were backed up with facts. Men were cruel, vile, disgusting creatures. They did nothing but drink at bars and speak ill of women with their friends while they belittled and objectified us. They looked down on my kind. They thought we were worthless and were only useful in bed.

Not a single man has ever been kind to me or to my sister. All men were monsters, especially my father.

But if the people chasing me actually caught up with me and did what I feared they were going to do, my father would have to step down from his throne and these three thugs would take his place.

Their mocking laughter and cat whistles filled the abandoned alley, and I could feel my legs starting to give up on me. I couldn’t run anymore. It had been over ten minutes and there was not a single person in sight. And by person, I mean a woman. I had passed several men, but they did not even have the slightest bit of sympathy for me. They all laughed and cheered the men chasing me on, as if this were some game. I was like a pet or a toy they wanted to win, and not in a gentlemanly way.

This was the world I lived in, and there was no escape from it.

Tears stung my eyes as my knees met the wet ground. It was starting to pour heavily and the cold was starting to seep into my bones. I could not do this anymore. I could not keep running. I could not keep fighting.

I am tired.

I give up.

I stayed in that kneeling position for only God knows how long, but eventually, the three goons caught up to me. Honestly, I could not believe they chased me this long. Their breathless snickering filled my ears as they circled me and looked down at me with nothing but lust and excitement in their reddened eyes.

"Aw, missy, you really gave us a run for our money, didn’t ya?" One of them said, and his comrades laughed in response. I did not know what was so funny about what he had said. I never knew what humor was. Sometimes I like to believe I am broken because even with my girlfriends, I never smiled with them, I never laughed at the jokes they told. I never found humor in this world.

"I kind of like this position you’re in. It makes me feel powerful. All that talk you gave about women being strong and independent, yet look at how you easily submitted to us," another one said, and my head dropped. Actually, it was hanging in shame. It was the fact that he used the words "easily submitted". Was I really that weak? I had been running for a good ten minutes, but they just wouldn’t give up. And there was no way I could fight off all three of them at the same time.

Maybe I really was weak.

I shut my eyes, but these monsters were not giving me the liberty to soak up my shame before one of them grabbed me roughly by the neck. He pushed me to my feet, and my hands shot out to claw at his neck. I couldn’t breathe.

I was hungry. I was tired. I was cold.

I was weak.

"Come on now, smile for us," the one with amber eyes sneered as he pushed me against the wall. I looked around for help, any form of help. Was this really going to happen? Was my greatest fear really about to become a reality?

A scream left my lips when one of them grabbed my left breast and squeezed harshly. His evil laugh filled my ears and more tears stung my eyes. His friend grabbed the other one and slapped it around like it was some toy. "Stop, please." I pleaded as bile rose in my throat. I felt so sick.

"Aww, she begs. I thought you were strong." The one with amber eyes said, I did not know what I felt more, pain or humiliation. It was most likely both.

"I hate you," I seethed, and before I could blink, a burning pain erupted in my cheek and I was thrown on the ground. I grabbed the stinging flesh and glared up at the three demons that towered above me.

"I think it’s time for us to finally have some fun, fellas," he said, and one of them grabbed my ankles while the other took my wrists.

I struggled against them, but my attempts to escape were futile. The man with amber eyes crouched down beside me and ran a hand through my reddened cheek. He grinned at me and the look in his eyes made me want to scream. I hated that look. It was as if he had won.

He proceeded to raise my dress, and I pinched my eyes closed, waiting for this terrible moment to come to an end.

And it did.

His hands on my dress suddenly disappeared, and it was then that I realized that his comrades holding my ankles and wrists were no longer doing so. Carefully, I pried my eyes open and what I saw would definitely leave me with nightmares for decades.

All three men lay lifeless beside me, their throats slit open and their lifeless eyes staring up at the glowing moon, the fear still evident in them.

I shot to my feet faster than I ever had and pressed my back against the wall. My heart felt like it was about to burst out of my chest, and the scent of their blood would have made me throw up if I had anything in my stomach.

That’s when I saw his eyes.

At first, I thought I was imagining things because he did not even look human. He looked more like a shadow in the darkness; the only thing that convinced me otherwise were his sparkling silver eyes drilling into my blue ones. He stepped out of the shadows and to say I was shocked to see a smile on his face would be an understatement. He was a devil in human form.

He wore an all black suit. The first three buttons of his shirt were undone and revealed his toned chest and skin. I could see some of his tattoos peeking out of his sleeves and collar. A cigarette hung loosely between his lips, and I could not help but be awed at the way smoke oozed out of them with ease. My eyes fell on the bloody knife clenched in his hands before returning to his eyes. They did not waver from mine, and I felt transparent under his gaze.

Oh my God, he killed them all in less than ten seconds. How was that even possible? What was he?

I pressed my back even more against the wall. This man might as well be more dangerous than the three corpses. But when I saw the gentleness in his silver orbs, my fear dwindled. He tilted his head to the side to reveal his snake tattoo. Then he asked, "Are you alright?"

"Y-you killed them all." I stuttered and he did not even appear a little bit bothered by that.

"That’s not what I asked, Cara. Are you alright?" He asked again, stepping even closer to me. His gaze alone was intimidating, yet I couldn’t look away.

"Yes," I answered softly, and he smiled.

"Good," he said, then started to walk away. I watched him go, but before he was completely out of sight, he faced me and said, "Take this." He threw something at me and I caught it with ease. I looked at my hands to find the bloody knife he had used to slaughter my attackers. There was a golden snake engraved on the black handle and I could not help but trace the delicate design. I looked back at him when he said, "You will need that more than I will."

He started walking away again, but this time I stopped him when I asked, "Wait, what’s your name?"

"Marcos. Marcos Messina."

And he was gone.