Chapter 87 THE STRANGER.
FLASHBACK.
FOUR YEARS AGO
The club pulsed with life, a chaotic symphony of thumping bass and flashing lights that made the air feel thick and electric. Bodies swayed on the dance floor, sweat-slicked and lost in the rhythm, while laughter and shouts cut through the haze of smoke and perfume.
Serena Evans, twenty-one and riding the high of a long week finally behind her, felt the buzz of alcohol warming her veins. She had come here with friends to celebrate the end of exams, but now the room spun a little too fast. Her head throbbed lightly, and the press of strangers around her made her skin prickle. She needed fresh air and something cool to clear the fog settling in her mind.
She gripped her half-empty glass of vodka tonic tighter and wove through the crowd toward the exit. The door swung open with a whoosh, spilling her out onto the dimly lit sidewalk. The night air hit her like a splash of cold water, sharp and invigorating against her flushed cheeks. Streetlights cast long shadows on the cracked pavement, and the distant hum of traffic provided a welcome contrast to the club's relentless beat. Serena took a deep breath, shaking her body to the fading rhythm still echoing in her ears, her hips swaying instinctively as she sipped her drink. The alcohol burned sweetly down her throat, loosening the tension in her shoulders.
Leaning against the rough brick wall of the club, she closed her eyes for a moment, letting the cool breeze ruffle her dark hair. It was a relief to be alone, away from the sticky heat inside. But as she opened her eyes, her gaze snagged on a car parked across the street. It was a sleek black sedan, its windows heavily tinted, like black mirrors reflecting nothing back.
There were no lights inside, and no movement. It sat there, silent and ominous, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Serena blinked, trying to shake off the unease. Probably just someone waiting for a ride or avoiding the cover charge. She ignored it, lifting her glass again and taking another long sip, the ice clinking softly.
The drink finished too quickly, leaving her with an empty glass and a lingering buzz. Time to head back inside, she thought, pushing off the wall. But as she turned, she collided with a solid chest. Her glass slipped from her fingers, shattering on the ground with a sharp crack.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, stepping back quickly, her cheeks heating with embarrassment. The man was tall, broad-shouldered, with a shadow of stubble on his jaw and eyes that gleamed under the streetlight. He smirked, not moving out of her way.
“No problem, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and rough, laced with something that made her stomach twist.
Before she could sidestep him, another figure emerged from the shadows beside the door. He was shorter, and stockier, with a shaved head and a grin that showed too many teeth.
They flanked her now, circling like predators sizing up prey. Serena's heart picked up speed, the alcohol's warmth turning to a cold knot in her gut.
“Look at her,” the first man said, his eyes raking over her body. She was wearing a simple black dress that hugged her curves, nothing provocative, but the way he stared made her feel exposed.
“Those lips are plump and ready for some real fun. Bet they'd feel good wrapped around something.”
The second man chuckled, stepping closer, his breath hot and sour with beer. “And check out those tits. So hot and full, bouncing just right. We'd have a blast taking turns with you, baby. One after the other, till you're screaming our names.”
Serena hissed, disgust rising in her throat. “Back off,” she snapped, trying to push past the first one. Her hands met his chest, but he grabbed her wrists, shoving her back against the wall with enough force to knock the breath from her lungs. The brick scraped her shoulders through the thin fabric of her dress.
“Where are you going so fast?” the stocky one taunted, pressing in on her other side. Their bodies trapped her, the scent of sweat and cheap cologne overwhelming. She twisted, her heart pounding, but they pinned her firmly, one hand on her arm, the other brushing her hip.
“Let me go,” she said, her voice sharper now, edged with fear. “This isn't funny. Just leave me alone.”
They laughed, low and mocking. The first man's fingers trailed up her arm, touching the bare skin above her elbow. “Aw, come on. Don't be like that. We're just gonna show you a good time,” The other leaned in, his hand grazing her thigh, inching the hem of her dress higher.
Panic clawed at her chest. This was getting serious. Her friends were inside, oblivious, and the street was empty save for that damn car.
She glanced toward it desperately, willing someone or anyone to just notice.
As if in response, the tinted window on the driver's side rolled down slowly. A man sat there, his face partially shadowed, but his eyes locked onto the scene. He looked older, with sharp features and dark hair falling over his forehead. For a split second, their gazes met. Serena's eyes pleaded, wide and silent. ‘Help me, please.’
But he just stared, his expression unreadable, and then rolled the window back up. The engine purred to life, and the car pulled away smoothly, taillights fading into the night.
Betrayal stung her. No, abandonment. She was on her own.
The men didn't notice and were just too focused on her.
“Time to take this somewhere private,” the first one growled, grabbing her arm harder. They dragged her away from the club's entrance, toward the corner of the street where the lights didn't reach. The alley was silent and dark, a forgotten stretch where trash bins loomed like sentinels and the pavement was littered with debris.
Serena struggled, kicking at their legs, but they were stronger, hauling her like she weighed nothing. “Stop! Help!” she cried, her voice echoing off the walls, but the club's music drowned it out. One of them clamped a hand over her mouth, the other yanking at her dress, fingers digging into the fabric at her shoulder.
They shoved her against a chain-link fence in the shadows, the metal rattling under the force. The stocky one pinned her arms above her head, his body pressing too close, while the other sniffed her hair, inhaling deeply like an animal. “You smell sweet,” he murmured, his free hand roaming over her waist, tugging at the zipper of her dress. “Gonna make you feel even better.”
Tears streamed down her face as she fought, muffled sobs escaping through his fingers. Her mind raced with her friends, the police, or anyone. But the darkness swallowed her cries. The first man stepped forward, gripping the neckline of her dress with both hands, ready to tear it apart.
That was when a figure appeared from the gloom, moving like a shadow detached from the night.
He was tall, clad in a dark jacket, and his steps were silent and deliberate. Before Serena could process it, he lunged at the man about to rip her dress. His hand shot out, grabbing the attacker's hair and yanking his head back. A glint of metal flashed, and it was a knife. Without a word, the stranger drove it deep into the man's neck.
Blood sprayed in a hot arc, the attacker gurgling as his eyes bulged in shock. The stranger twisted the blade, then ripped it free, shoving the body to the filthy ground where it twitched once and stilled.
The stocky one released Serena, whirling with a roar of fear and rage.
“What the fuck!” he bellowed, charging at the intruder. But the stranger was faster. He sidestepped, throwing a punch that connected with the man's jaw, the crack echoing like a gunshot. The attacker staggered, but the stranger didn't stop. He followed with a knee to the gut, then a flurry of blows hammering his ribs, his face, and everywhere that could break.
The man crumpled, curling into a ball on the pavement, blood pouring from his split lip and nose. “Please... stop... I give up,” he begged, voice wheezing, hands raised in surrender.
Serena slid down the fence, her legs giving out, her dress torn at the shoulder but still intact. She watched in frozen horror as the stranger knelt beside the beaten man, knife in hand again, the blade dripping crimson.
“N... don’t kill him…” she whimpered, her voice small and broken, barely audible over the pounding of her heart.
The stranger turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting hers.
He was the same man in the car out there. He looked cold, and unyielding like polished steel.
“Then, you should have stayed back home,' he hissed, his voice low and venomous.
Without hesitation, he plunged the knife straight into the man's head, the blade sinking in with a sickening thud. The body jerked once, then went limp.
Serena screamed, a raw, piercing sound that tore from her throat. The world tilted, horror crashing over her in waves. Blood pooled on the ground, the metallic tang filling the air. The stranger rose swiftly, closing the distance between them in two strides.
His hand, slick with blood, clamped over her mouth, muffling her cries.
“Shhhh, there,” he said quietly. “Quiet.”
Her breath shook against his palm.
“You should always stay home once it’s dark, moonlight,” he said softly, almost gently, the nickname sending a shiver through her. “The world is not nice.”
He released her, pulling a clean handkerchief from his pocket. It was crisp white, monogrammed with a D. He pressed it into her trembling hand. “Clean yourself up.”
Then, without another word, he turned and faded back into the shadows, his footsteps fading as if he'd never been there.
Serena stared after him, the handkerchief clutched like a lifeline.
Bile rose in her throat, the sickness overwhelming, the violence, the blood, and the casual way he'd ended lives. Her vision blurred, and her legs buckled fully. The darkness claimed her, and she passed out on the cold pavement, the nightmare etching itself into her soul forever.