37

"Can we, please?" I tug on Connor's hand as we walk into the dark. The time we spent in the studio has transformed the sky from a hazy dusk into a velvety black night.

I suspect that the lady working inside stayed late to help Connor with this incredible date. Part of me feels guilty for holding her up, especially with the… questionable activities we were involved in down there.

The other part—the bigger one—wouldn't change that for the world.

He chuckles as we walk past the van. "It'll be too dark for you to get your picture on the crosswalk."

"But you'll be my photographer anyway, because you love me." He grumbles what sounds like an agreement under his breath, and when my smile spreads, he tries to punctuate it with a scowl that only makes him look like a lovesick puppy. The lingering drizzle has transformed the air into a gentle mist, quickly cooling the fading heat of the day.

Connor cackles as I strut back and forth on the crosswalk, dodging traffic and getting funny looks from others. Half are laughing because they're doing the same damn thing, the other half locals who are annoyed by my tourist antics.

At least I'm not wearing the straw hat.

My laughter intensifies as Connor switches on his flash, yelling commands at me as he snaps pictures. "Work it, baby!" he shouts, as I throw my head back in a laugh. "Oh, yeah, that's it. Give me that O face, sugar!" I can't stop my maniacal giggling as I jog over to him, his massive smile reflecting the glow of the streetlights.

"Can we walk for a while? I'm not ready to leave yet."

"Of course, sweetheart. Tonight is about you, so we'll do whatever you want."

"Dangerous words, chippoke," I tease, and he flashes me another smile.

"I'm not scared."

After a few blocks, the delicious scent of sizzling meat reaches our noses, and we run over to a kebab cart with growling stomachs. The vendor is a kind older woman, and both of us are ravenous from missing dinner. We spot an empty bench where Connor pulls me into his lap to eat.

Once I finish licking my fingers clean, I lean back, slouching to rest my head against his chest as we people watch. His chin digs into my shoulder as he plants a kiss on my cheek. "Ready to go back to the hotel?"

"Can't we just run away?" I ask, and his chest bounces in a small laugh.

"I'm afraid not. Dante would hunt me down."

"You could take him."

"Are you asking me to beat up one of my best friends for you?"

I grin, twisting to meet his eyes. "Depends… would you do it?"

"Probably," he mutters, and then we're both laughing. We wait a few more minutes before standing, and he takes my hand as we retrace our steps, weaving through the blocks towards the studio where the van is parked. A noise catches my attention, and I stop.

Connor turns and raises his eyebrow at me in question. "Don't you hear that?" I ask, narrowing my eyes like it will help my ears work better.

His head tilts, pointing his ear upwards as he strains to listen. "Hear what?"

Holding my hand up, I shake my head to signal him to keep quiet. This time, I'm sure I hear it—a hushed wail that sounds like someone crying. He meets my eyes, brows pulled low, and it happens again.

"It's a woman," I mutter as I turn towards a narrow side street that seems to be the source of the cries. "Over here."

"Hang on." Connor positions himself beside me, but the woman yells and instinct pulls my feet closer to the sound. "Tai, wait," he shouts, bolting after me.

As I round a corner, my gaze lands on a petite woman huddled on the ground, her back pressed against the wall, and her face buried in her knees. "Hey, hey, what's wrong? Do you need help?" My voice is gentle as I kneel beside her, Connor growling my name from behind me.

Her head lifts, and something is… off.

Her eyes are wide, pupils distended, but there are no tears.

I jolt backwards as her lips curl into a mocking smile, and my heart takes a nosedive as I become hyper aware of the dark, isolated corner I've dragged us into.

This isn't right.

A different voice taunts, "These damn Americans and their hero complexes," and I stumble to my feet as two men emerge from the shadows. One is tall and thick, bald with a mustache, the other short and squirrelly. Connor grabs my arm tight enough to bruise as he drags me behind his wall of a body.

"Come on, let's go," I whisper, when a laugh comes from beside us. Connor whirls, analyzing the situation as the woman on the ground stands and walks to join the two men, stumbling and laughing.

"Go? Where do you think you're going, pretty boy?" the bald one asks with a smirk. "We haven't even had a chance to chat yet."

Connor snarls, meeting the eye of every person in this alley. "This is your only fucking chance to walk away before you regret it."

"Regret it?" Baldy laughs, nudging the skinny guy beside him. "He's outnumbered, and he thinks we're going to regret it?!"

"What do you want?" I push as much confidence in my voice as I can, but it still wavers.

"Empty your pockets." That comes from the smaller man, who looks to be high or having withdrawals based on the unsteady way his hands quake.

Connor shakes his head, but I squeeze his arm until he glances at me. "Just do it. Let's give them what they want, and then we can get out of here."

"Listen to your pretty little boyfriend over there," Baldy taunts, and Connor freezes, preternaturally still. "Empty your pockets, and if it's not enough, maybe I'll take him, too. I'm sure I can find some… interesting ways to collect." There's not even a warning as Connor launches forward and smashes his fist into Baldy's nose, followed by a second hook that knocks him backward by a few steps.

Chaos.

The smaller one rushes Connor, his stupidity fueled by whatever drugs that course in his veins, but he's no match. Connor grabs his shirt and slams him into the brick wall with a thud before releasing him to wilt on the ground. Baldy comes back for more, taking a swing at Connor that he easily dodges, light on his feet like a dancer as he ducks and weaves.

Fear roots me to the spot, and I don't even hear the footsteps.

A rough hand grabs my wrist, and my back is yanked against an unfamiliar body. A sharp whistle slices through my eardrum as an arm circles my neck. "Down, boy, unless you want me to hurt your pretty piece of ass over here."

Connor's eyes flare as he twists to look at me, and Baldy takes advantage of his distraction and lands a punch on his jaw that jolts his whole body to the side. I shout his name, tears in my eyes, as the armbar on my throat tightens and cuts off my air.

"No, no, no," I gasp as devastation spreads over Connor's expression, a panic attack threatening me from all sides and amplifying the lead filling my lungs.

"Tai," he whispers, and then he throws his head back in a bellow that makes the hair on my neck stand on end. It's guttural— animal —and enough to shake me to my very core. He palms Baldy's face, his fingers digging into his skin and into one of his eye sockets before slamming him into the wall. He crumples to the ground with his partner.

Connor's glare whips to us, burning alive with fury, and the man holding me curses as he charges in our direction. "I've got you," Connor says, eyes on mine. It barely reaches my ears through the ringing in my head, and I give a single nod as more tears track my cheeks.

Worthless.

This is my fault and I'm fucking worthless .

"Let him go," Connor growls, not even blinking as he takes deliberate, menacing strides forward.

"If I let him go, you won't let me go."

There's a predatory edge to Connor's face. "No, but maybe I'll give you a head start." The man holding me shutters, a tremble to his hand as he retreats a step, dragging me with him.

"Please," I wheeze through my restricted windpipe. "He won't… just let us leave." Connor snarls again, fists tight at his side. He takes another step and I'm jolted backward once more when a shadow beyond him catches my attention.

"Behind you!" It's barely even a whisper as Connor whirls, the jittery man's shaky fist slamming into his stomach.

It shouldn't stop him.

It shouldn't.

But it does.

He falters, doubles over, then his wide eyes whip up to the small man who stands before him.

"You fucking idiot!" the guy behind me screeches, and I'm released, shoved forward onto my knees, gasping for breath. Footsteps thunder through the alley as they run, and Connor stumbles over and thuds to his knees in front of me.

Why did he hit the ground so hard?

"Are you okay?" His voice is strangely weak, and I don't understand what's happening until my eyes fall to his stomach. A rich bloom of ruby spreads over the green of his shirt, a slice through the fabric revealing a deep gash in his abdomen. Blood gushes from it so fast—too fast—pouring in a river down his skin and over his pants.

"Connor," I whimper, and he tries to give me a reassuring smile as my trembling hands reach to put pressure on the wound, but they slip because there's just too much. I try again, pushing my palm against his stomach, releasing a strangled cry when the warmth flows between my fingers and down my forearms.

Coppery, metallic tang punches my nostrils, and I choke, unable to look away.

I'm covered in blood.

So much fucking blood.

Too much.

Too much.

He gasps at the touch, his face pained and tendons in his neck drawn taut as his breath comes too fast. My eyes fly up to his face as he coughs, a small trickle of crimson leaking from the side of his lips. "I love you," he chokes as his head slumps forward, and he's too heavy for me to catch as his body thuds to the ground.

My throat burns with the volume of my cries, the sounds that escape me ricocheting through the narrow alley like a bullet, a howl that no longer sounds human. I push his massive, limp body until he's flat on his back, yanking off my shirt and pushing it against the wound.

My throat is made of broken glass, razor-sharp shards that slice and maul my voice as the blood seeps through the fabric and flows from under my palms. His name leaves me as a shout, louder and louder and fucking louder , until footsteps run in my direction.

"No, no, no, don't hurt him anymore!" I scream, barely more than a sob as I desperately shield him, my body shaking uncontrollably. "You can't take him from me."

"Have you called an ambulance?" A frantic woman's voice reaches me, and I shake my head, unable to stop the harrowing cries that cut their way from my throat. More voices join hers, and then hands land on my shoulders.

"I'm a nurse, son. Let me help him," a man says, and I sob harder, clinging onto Connor's motionless body with all my strength. "I know it's difficult, but right now it is critical that you trust me." The voice is tinged with a calm desperation and a hint of panic. I twist my head and find a worried, kind face behind thin glasses. "You can stay right beside him, but he needs you to step aside and let me help. Right now, son. He needs you to move."

Numb, I nod, falling to my ass and screaming when I see my torso painted in crimson, my hands and arms completely red. "He's not moving," I sob, running my fingers through his hair as the man tears his clothes back, a grim look overtaking his face. "Why is he not moving?"

Sirens wail in the distance as the world closes in on me. The walls beside me, the sky above, and the ground below all push closer, trapping me between them as I watch, helpless. The nurse curses and climbs to his knees, his palms on Connor's chest as he pushes, and pushes, and pushes so hard that his giant body gives underneath the weight. His chin is tilted up as the man forces air into his lungs, and I'm not breathing either.

" Please ," I whisper, feeling my heart and bones and fucking soul shatter under the force of those compressions. Every jolt to his sternum echoes through me, and it hurts … God how it hurts. Emergency workers sprint into the alley and take over, struggling to lift him to the gurney while keeping up with his care.

" Please ," I beg again as they wheel him through that narrow walkway, my legs working of their own accord as I stumble along behind them. There's shouting, and machinery beeping, and gurgles and gasps that will haunt my dreams for the rest of my life as I'm pulled into the back of the ambulance.

Wheels bounce and sirens scream as a man stays on top of Connor, pushing on his chest as his powerful body remains limp underneath him. His lips are blue, and he's not moving.

He's not moving.

He's not moving.

Please.