Chapter 3 Please Sir Let Me Go

Then she fucking ran.

It wasn't a decision. It was survival. Her body snapped into motion, stumbling backward before she turned and bolted, slipping in the puddles, her breath catching in her throat as she sprinted through the alley.

Her brain didn't process the command. It didn't have to. This was instinct. Pure animal fear. The kind that lived in the marrow of the bones, in the heartbeat of prey. She didn't think...couldn't think...because her mind was burning with one word.

Run.

"HELP ME! SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME!"

Her voice tore from her throat in a scream so raw it scraped her lungs.

No one answered.

She didn't care where she was going anymore. She just ran. Faster. Harder. Like maybe, if she pushed her body enough, she could outrun what she saw.

"PLEASE!" she screamed again. "PLEASE! OH MY GOD...HELP ME!"

Her voice cracked on the last word. Her throat burned. She could taste salt..tears, blood, rain..she didn't know. She didn't care.

Her legs were shaking as her chest burned. Her breath came out in panicked sobs. Her arms were hugging herself as she ran like she could somehow hold her insides in place.

Her fingers dug into the sleeves of her hoodie, gripping the fabric like it might keep her from falling apart. Her limbs were beginning to betray her, her knees weakening, her ankles rolling every time her foot slammed into another pothole or gutter.

Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the rain that soaked her hair, her clothes.

She was crying so hard she couldn't see.

"I DIDN'T MEAN TO SEE ANYTHING! I SWEAR I DIDN'T...I DIDN'T MEAN TO!"

She slipped.

Her foot caught ground and she stumbled forward, knees crashing against the floor as her knees started to bleed.

Pain gripped her by the knee. The shock of it stole the air from her lungs. Her scream didn't even come out...it stuck in her throat, thick.

She cried out. Loud. Guttural. Her voice cracked under the pressure of pain and panic.

But she didn't stop.

She scrambled back to her feet, palms bleeding as she gripped her knees to stop it from bleeding, breath wheezing. Her whole body trembled.

"PLEASE DON'T KILL ME! I WAS JUST GOING HOME...I WAS JUST TRYING TO GET HOME!"

She screamed again. And again.

"IS ANYBODY THERE? PLEASE! PLEASE..."

No answer. No footsteps but her own.

She sobbed as she turned another corner, the buildings spinning around her in a blur of rain and shadow as she felt dizzy. What was happening to her body? Was it the shock of it all or what?

Her ears rang. Her legs wobbled. She could feel her consciousness flickering like the hallway lights in the ER when the power surged.

"I CAN'T DO THIS...I CAN'T...OH GOD PLEASE...I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"

Her legs buckled again but she pushed forward, one foot dragging in front of the other.

"ETHAN! SOMEONE...ANYONE...PLEASE...!"

Her cries were no longer screams. The kind of sounds you make when you're past the edge of fear and your soul is splintering.

"I didn't ask for this," she sobbed. "I didn't..."

She gasped as her legs gave out for real this time.

Her knees hit first. Then her hands. Then her chest, her cheek, her body folding into the soaked pavement like a puppet with its strings cut.

She collapsed.

Face-first onto the cold, wet ground.

Her breath hitched. Her body refused to move.

She blinked up at the sky, soaked hair clinging to her cheeks.

And then she felt it.

The presence.

It wasn't a sound. It wasn't even a shadow.

It was pressure.

Weight.

Cold.

It moved in behind her like death pulling up a chair. She didn't need to lift her head.

She already knew.

He was there.

Standing over her.

She turned her head, trembling, crying, helpless.

And then his shadow devoured her as she could not stop shaking. Then he crouched. His black boots were just inches far from her bleeding knee.

She saw them first.

They were clean. Clean despite the storm. Despite the blood.

Like he didn't walk. Like the world moved for him.

He crouched further slowly, one hand resting on his knee, the other holding the pistol she had just watched blow a man's skull wide open.

The blood was still wet on his skin.

And he was smiling.

Not the smile of a man amused.

The smile of a predator who had cornered prey.

"Well, well," he murmured.

"What do we have here?"

Her mouth opened but nothing came out. Her jaw trembled. Her teeth clacked.

He looked at her like she was a riddle that had solved itself. Like he already knew everything about her, just from the way her body shook.

"Hi there," he whispered, leaning in, eyes dragging over her soaked body. "Pretty little doctor."

Her breathing hitched, panicked sobs catching in her throat.

"You just witnessed something you weren't supposed to see," he continued, casually pressing the barrel of his gun against the center of her forehead.

The metal was cold.

So cold it burned.

She flinched so violently she nearly toppled over.

"Oh fuck," he chuckled darkly. "What shall I do with you, huh?"

He tilted his head, eyes glinting with cruel curiosity.

"Maybe I should paint the pavement with your brains. Right here. Right now. Let the city wash away what's left of you."

"No...no...please," she gasped, tears mixing with rain on her cheeks. "Don't kill me. I didn't...I wasn't...I swear I won't say anything..."

Her voice broke in the middle of her pleading. Her tongue felt heavy, her lips numb.

"I have a family...I have a job...I'm a doctor..."

Then it happened.

A sharp warmth. Piss.

Humiliation flooded her body before she could process it.

Her bladder gave out. Hot piss spilled down her thighs, soaking through her jeans, pooling under her knees and she felt it...every humiliating second of it...her body betraying her completely.

She let out a sob as she placed her face in her palms.

Her shame made her shiver harder than the cold ever could.

Dominic looked down.

Then back up at her.

And he smiled.

"Look at that," he said softly, like he was complimenting her. "You pissed yourself."

Her body shook with silent sobs as she could not bear to look up.

"And I haven't even pulled the trigger yet."

He dragged the barrel of the gun slowly across her jaw, over her lips, tracing her as if he were memorizing her fear.

"You're shaking," he whispered. "You smell like fear. Your pulse is pounding so hard I can hear it from here."

He leaned in closer. Inches from her face.

His voice dropped to a growl.

"I could kill you, right now. And no one...no one...would ever know. Do you understand that?"

She nodded violently, sobbing. "Please...please don't...I'll do anything..."

He grinned as he placed his fingertips on her lips.

"Anything?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Please, I swear, anything..."

He leaned even closer, nose brushing her cheek, gun still pressed to her head.

His breath was fire against her skin.

"Then beg, puttana."

Beg, little whore.

"Please sir. I'm begging you," she breathed.

Her voice didn't even sound like her own anymore..it sounded hollow, broken, the final whimper of a soul stripped bare in the rain.

She wasn't pleading to be spared anymore.

She was pleading to be seen. Not as a witness. Not as a mistake. But as a human. Something he might hesitate to destroy.

But there was no hesitation.

No mercy.

No pause.

He grabbed her throat again.

Not gentle.

Not hesitant.

Not merciful.

He wrapped his fingers around her neck like he fucking owned it, like it wasn't part of her anymore but an extension of him.

His palm crushed her windpipe forcing her spine to arch slightly beneath him.

Her breath hitched.

Her hands flew up to his wrist...those fragile fingers clawing, trembling, pressing, pleading..but her strength was laughable. His grip didn't loosen.

If anything...

It tightened.

He could feel her fluttering pulse beneath his palm. Rapid. And it made him hard.

So fucking hard.

His cock strained under his soaked fabric, pressing against the inside of his belt like it wanted to tear through and sink into something warm, trembling, pleading.

His eyes locked onto hers.

Burning.

Furious.

Hungry.

Unholy.

She couldn't look away as he leaned in closer. His nose touching hers as she could perceive his minty breath.

"Do you have any fucking idea," he growled "how pretty you look like this?"

She blinked once.

Then again.

Tears rolled down her cheeks in heavy, shaking drops. Her nails dug into his wrist, leaving tiny crescent moons in his skin. He didn't flinch.

He drank her in.

His thumb dragged slowly under her jaw, tilting her face up to him, as if presenting her to the night.

"I could ruin you," he whispered. "Right here. Right now. And there's not a single fucking soul in this city that would stop me."

The words slithered into her ears and curled around her spine.

She sobbed again.

"I should blow your brains out," he said, pressing the pistol harder against her cheek. "Let the rain wash away the pieces. Let the city forget you ever existed."

"Please..." she rasped.

He tilted his head.

"Still begging?"

"I'll do anything," she croaked. "I swear... I'll do anything..."

He stared at her for a long, drawn-out moment.

Then something flickered behind his eyes.

Not mercy.

Interest.

He removed his hand from her throat slowly as he smirk repeating her words.

"Anything" he muttered tilting his head.