The rain was getting heavier.
It poured from the sky as if the clouds had finally given up holding it back. Water streamed along the sides of the alley, turning the ground into a thin mirror of dim streetlight reflections.
Liora stood only a few steps away from the wounded stranger.
Her umbrella trembled slightly in her hand, not from the wind—but from her nerves.
The man was still watching her.
His eyes were sharp despite the exhaustion that darkened them. Rainwater slid down his face, tracing the strong lines of his jaw before dripping onto the ground.
"You're still here," he said quietly.
His voice was deep and rough, like gravel dragged across stone.
Liora swallowed.
"You're injured."
"That's obvious."
His tone wasn't rude, but it carried a cold edge.
Liora looked again at the blood on his arm. The rain had washed some of it away, but the wound was still bleeding steadily.
If he stayed here any longer…
She didn't want to imagine what would happen.
"You need help," she said.
The man let out a faint breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
"Help?"
His head tilted slightly.
"You shouldn't get involved."
Something in the way he said it made a chill crawl along her spine.
Not a threat.
More like a warning.
Still, she didn't move.
"Can you walk?" she asked again.
The man stared at her for a moment, as if trying to understand what kind of person would ask that question.
Before he could answer—
A sound echoed from the far end of the alley.
Footsteps.
Multiple.
Heavy.
Both of them froze.
The man's expression changed instantly.
The exhaustion vanished from his eyes, replaced by something sharp and dangerous.
A predator's awareness.
He pushed himself slightly off the wall, wincing as pain shot through his arm.
"Damn," he muttered under his breath.
The footsteps were getting closer.
Voices followed.
"Check the alley!"
"He couldn't have gone far!"
Liora's heart dropped.
Someone was looking for him.
The man's gaze snapped toward her.
"Listen carefully," he said in a low voice.
The calm tone he had before was gone.
Now it was pure command.
"If they see you with me, you'll be in trouble."
"Who are they?" she whispered.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he stepped forward.
Up close, Liora realized just how tall he was. His presence filled the narrow space of the alley like a shadow swallowing light.
"Which way leads out?" he asked.
Her mind raced.
"There's… another street at the end," she said, pointing behind him. "But—"
The voices were closer now.
Flashlights suddenly cut through the rain at the entrance of the alley.
Three silhouettes appeared.
Men.
Tall, broad figures wearing dark coats.
One of them lifted a flashlight and swept the beam across the wet ground.
"Look!"
The light caught the blood trail.
"Found it."
Liora's breath caught.
The wounded man cursed softly under his breath.
Then he did something unexpected.
He grabbed Liora's wrist.
The movement was sudden but not rough.
"Hey—" she started.
"Quiet," he whispered.
Before she could react, he pulled her toward the shadow between two large dumpsters.
They slipped into the darkness just as the flashlights moved closer.
Liora could hear the men's footsteps clearly now.
Splash.
Splash.
Splash.
Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure the men could hear it.
The stranger was standing extremely close to her.
Too close.
She could feel the heat of his body despite the cold rain.
His hand still held her wrist firmly, keeping her from moving.
"Don't make a sound," he murmured.
His breath brushed against her ear.
The footsteps stopped nearby.
One of the men spoke.
"The blood ends here."
"Search the area."
Flashlights swept across the alley.
Bright beams cut through the darkness, sliding over walls, puddles, and trash bins.
One of them paused dangerously close to the place where Liora and the stranger were hiding.
Her breath froze.
The light moved slowly…
Closer…
Closer…
Then—
A loud crash echoed from the other side of the alley.
One of the metal lids from a garbage bin suddenly fell to the ground.
The men turned immediately.
"What was that?"
"Check it!"
The flashlights shifted away from Liora's hiding spot.
The stranger's grip on her wrist loosened slightly.
Liora blinked.
He hadn't moved.
So what made the noise?
The answer came quickly.
A stray cat darted across the alley, knocking into the trash before disappearing into the rain.
"Just a cat," one of the men muttered.
Another cursed.
"Damn it. Spread out. He can't be far."
Their footsteps moved deeper into the alley.
Further away.
Further.
Finally…
Silence returned.
Liora released the breath she had been holding.
"That was close," she whispered.
The man didn't answer.
When she looked up, she realized he was staring at her again.
But this time his expression was different.
More intense.
"You should have run," he said quietly.
"But I didn't."
He studied her face.
Rainwater dripped from his dark hair, sliding down the side of his face.
"You don't even know who I am," he said.
"That's true."
"Yet you helped me."
Liora hesitated.
Then she said the only honest thing she could think of.
"You looked like someone who needed help."
For a moment, the man said nothing.
Something unreadable flickered in his eyes.
Then—
He let go of her wrist.
"You're going home," he said.
"What about you?"
"That's not your problem."
But before he could step away—
More footsteps echoed from the street behind them.
Different ones.
Faster.
More organized.
The man's expression darkened.
"Great," he muttered.
Liora's heart sank.
"There are more?"
He looked toward the alley entrance.
Rain poured harder than ever, turning the night into a curtain of silver.
"Yes," he said quietly.
"And this time…"
His cold eyes met hers.
"They're much worse."
Somewhere in the distance—
A gun clicked.
And the night of rain was far from over.