Chapter 256 Papa God Sent You

Chapter 256 Papa God Sent You
Marita kept walking, drawn by the city’s energy—loud, colorful, and full of life. She turned another corner, following the scent of food and the flow of people, not really paying attention to where she was going.

At first, everything still felt exciting.

But the further she walked, the more the neighborhood changed. Tall, shiny buildings gave way to older ones covered in graffiti. Clean sidewalks turned cracked and littered with trash. Groups of men lingered on corners, smoking and talking loudly. Music blasted from open windows, and the air grew heavier with the smell of fried food, smoke, and something sharper.

Marita slowed, looking around uneasily.

“Dis place look different…” she muttered, clutching the front of Lucius’s oversized shirt. Some of the men on the street turned to stare. Their eyes lingered too long on her bare legs, the way the shirt slipped off her shoulder, and her wild curls bouncing as she walked.

She felt their gazes like sticky fingers on her skin and her stomach twisted.

She tried to ignore it and kept moving, hoping to find a familiar street or a food cart. But she had no idea where she was. The tall buildings all looked the same from a distance, and she had turned too many corners.

“Mi should have asked someone for direction,” she whispered, biting her lip.

A group of three guys leaning against a wall noticed her. One whistled loudly.

“Damn, shorty! Where you going dressed like that?”

Marita’s steps quickened. She pulled the shirt tighter around herself and walked faster, her bare feet slapping against the dirty pavement. They started following.

She could hear their footsteps behind her, their low laughter and crude comments.

“Yo, look at them legs…”

“She lost or what?”

“Come here, ma. We’ll show you around.”

Marita’s heart pounded. She broke into a jog, eyes darting desperately for a main road, a police officer, anything familiar. Her phone was still back at the penthouse—she’d left it in her excitement to explore.

The men picked up their pace, calling out louder.

“Ay! Slow down, beautiful! Don’t be like that!”

Fear crawled up her spine. The street narrowed, the buildings growing more run-down. She didn’t know this part of New York at all.

Mi stupid… mi should not have left the building, she thought, panic rising.

She turned a sharp corner, hoping to lose them, but they were still behind her, closer now.

One of them shouted, “Come on, girl! We just wanna talk!”

Marita broke into a full run, lungs burning, tears of fear and anger stinging her eyes. Lucius’s oversized shirt flapped around her thighs, his boxer shorts riding up as she sprinted down the unfamiliar street.

A rough arm suddenly shot out from a side alley and grabbed her around the waist.

“Got you!”

She screamed, struggling wildly as the fourth man yanked her back against his chest. His breath was hot and sour against her ear.

“Feisty little thing, ain’t you?”

The three others came panting around the corner, grinning like predators.

“Damn, she’s fast,” one laughed, wiping sweat from his face. “Almost lost her.”

They closed in, grabbing at her arms and waist. Marita fought like a wildcat, kicking, elbowing, and twisting with surprising strength.

“Lef mi! Get yu dirty hands off mi!” she yelled in Bislama, then switched to furious French. “Lâchez-moi, espèces de salauds! Touche-moi encore et je te casse la gueule!”(Let me go, you bastards! Touch me again and mi ago buss yuh fucking face!)

The men laughed in shock as she headbutted one in the nose and stomped hard on another’s foot.

“Shit, she’s strong!”

One of them shoved his hand into the pocket of the oversized shirt and pulled out the remaining dollar bills.

“Look at this, she’s carrying cash too!”

Another grabbed the front of her shirt, yanking it open. “We gon’ have some fun with you first…”

“Papa God, help mi!” Marita screamed, still fighting, nails scratching and legs kicking. “Mi no fear yu! Yu dirty animals!”

They were trying to drag her deeper into the alley, hands grabbing at her thighs and chest, when suddenly..

CRACK.

Two of the men were ripped away from her with brutal force and slammed into the brick wall like ragdolls. The impact was sickening and they crumpled to the ground, groaning in pain.

Lucius stood there, breathing hard, eyes burning with pure murderous rage.

The remaining two attackers froze.

Lucius didn’t speak. He simply moved.

He grabbed the man who had been holding Marita by the throat and lifted him clean off the ground with one hand. The man choked, legs kicking uselessly in the air.

“How dare you,” Lucius said, his voice low and terrifying.

He threw the man into the wall with terrifying strength. The sound of bones breaking echoed in the alley.

The last attacker tried to run.

Lucius caught him by the back of his shirt and slammed him face-first into the concrete over and over and over again, blood spraying on the wall as his forehead burst open, spreading blood on the wall like paint.

Marita stood trembling, shirt torn at the shoulder, breathing fast. The moment Lucius turned to her, his expression changed completely, from cold violence to fierce, protective worry.

He pulled her into his arms instantly, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other wrapping around her waist as he held her tight against his chest.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, voice rough. His hands moved over her quickly, checking for injuries. “Did they touch you?”

Marita shook her head, burying her face in his chest, tears finally spilling over.

“Mi okay… mi fight dem,” she whispered, voice shaky. “Mi call Papa God… and yu came.”

Lucius held her even tighter, one hand gently stroking her wild curls as his body vibrated with barely contained fury.

“I’m here,” he murmured against her hair. “I’ve got you, little bird. No one will ever touch you again.”

He looked over his shoulder at the groaning, bloodied men on the ground, his eyes glowing with dark promise.

They would regret the day they ever looked at what belonged to him.