Chapter 241 Trouble Past Midnight

Chapter 241 Trouble Past Midnight
>>Riona
The men closed in on the car, their footsteps slow and deliberate, the silence of the night broken only by the sound of their boots scraping against the asphalt. I could feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating. Demos’s jaw was tight, his hands still gripping the steering wheel with an almost unnatural calmness. But his eyes—they were focused, sharp, and filled with something cold. It was as if he was waiting for something, waiting for the right moment to strike.
I didn’t know who these men were or what they wanted, but something about their presence made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. The sense of danger was palpable.
One of the men, the tallest among them, stepped forward, a smirk curling on his lips as he looked at Demos through the window. His voice was low, mocking. “You’re in the wrong place, friend.”
Demos didn’t respond right away, he simply got out of the car and locked it behind him. He then stared at the man, his gaze never wavering. It was like he was analyzing him, sizing him up, waiting for the right move.
The tall man laughed, clearly not intimidated. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing here, but you should’ve stayed out of this part of town.”
Before Demos could say anything, the man snapped his fingers, and the others began to move—closing the distance between them and the car. My heart pounded in my chest as I watched them, fear creeping in. The air seemed to crackle with the tension, like something was about to break.
I instinctively reached for the door handle, about to get out and help, but Demos’s hand shot out, stopping me before I could even move.
“Stay in the car,” he said, his voice firm but calm, without a trace of panic and right then. The fight began!
I hesitated. I didn’t want to just sit there while he dealt with these men, but... he was handling everything so effortlessly, almost too easily. I watched as he looked at the thugs one last time, then his eyes flickered back to me. His gaze was steady, a small, almost reassuring smile on his lips.
My breath caught in my throat, and I stayed frozen, watching him take control of the situation.
The men, now all in position, seemed to realize they were being ignored. One of them lunged toward the door, attempting to yank it open, but before he could even touch the handle, Demos was at him in a blur.
It was like watching a predator pounce on its prey—smooth, precise, and terrifyingly quick. Demos moved with a fluidity that made it almost impossible to follow his movements. He dodged the first punch aimed at him, then spun around, delivering a vicious blow to the attacker’s midsection. The thug crumpled, gasping for air.
Without missing a beat, Demos kicked another one in the chest, sending him flying back, crashing into the car door with a sickening thud. I could hear bones crack, but it didn’t seem to faze Demos. He was moving through them like they were nothing more than obstacles to be swept aside.
I gripped the seat, my eyes wide. I had never seen anything like this before. He was fighting with a precision that was almost terrifying, and yet, it felt... controlled. He wasn’t just protecting himself; he was dismantling them, one by one, as if he knew exactly how to bring them down without hesitation.
As the last thug approached, Demos moved in a flash—grabbing his wrist mid-swing and twisting it with a sickening snap. The thug cried out, dropping to his knees, unable to fight back.
I could feel my heart pounding, my body tensing, but I couldn’t help but watch, mesmerized by how easily Demos handled each of them. It was like he was dancing with death, yet he was in complete control of every movement.
Just when I thought the fight was over, the sound of something shattering filled the air—a deafening crack that made me jump in my seat. I screamed, my hands flying up instinctively to shield myself as the window next to me exploded into a million tiny shards.
!!??
The glass rained down on me, but I was unharmed—shocked, yes, but not injured.
I ducked, pressing myself as low as I could into the seat, my heart racing from the sheer panic of the moment. I could hear Demos’s voice, sharp and commanding, telling me to stay down, but I was already frozen, my mind struggling to process the noise, the chaos, and the near miss.
The thugs had a sniper.
I had no idea where the shot had come from or how they had managed to set up so quickly, but the danger had escalated tenfold. My breathing hitched in my chest as I realized just how close I had come to being hit.
Demos had taken notice immediately, his attention flicking to the shattered window. His body tensed, the muscles in his jaw tightening, but his voice remained steady, his confidence never wavering.
I watched as Demos effortlessly dealt with the last thug, his movements precise and controlled. My heart was still pounding in my chest, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. The way he moved—so fluid, so powerful—left me breathless.
But then, without warning, a sharp crack shattered the stillness of the night. The sound of a gunshot rang through the air, and before I could even process what had happened, Demos's body jerked back violently. A scream tore itself from my throat before I even realized I had opened my mouth. My eyes locked onto him as he staggered, one hand clutching his side where the bullet had hit.
“No!” I screamed, my body moving before my mind could catch up. I scrambled out of the car, but before I could get to him, another shot rang out. This time, it caught him in the other arm, and he collapsed to his knees with a pained grunt.
“Demos!” I shouted, panic rising in my chest as I rushed to him. His eyes were wide, and though his face remained calm, there was a flicker of pain that was impossible to hide. Blood seeped through his clothes, staining his skin.
I barely even knew what I was doing as I moved toward him. “You’re gonna be fine,” I muttered, though I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince him or myself.
But I couldn’t just leave him here. Not like this.
His breath was ragged as I helped him to his feet, his arm draped over my shoulder for support. He was bleeding, and I could feel the weight of him pressing down on me as I struggled to keep him upright. The cold night air rushed over us, and I realized, with a sinking feeling in my gut, that we were out in the open. The street was empty, the thugs gone, but we were exposed, vulnerable. Another shot could come at any moment.
“Demos, we need to move. We need cover,” I said, my voice barely more than a frantic whisper. I looked around wildly, trying to find somewhere—anywhere—that would shield us.
His eyes, still sharp despite the pain, flicked to the alley ahead of us. Without a word, he nodded and pushed himself up, making an effort to take more of his weight off me. But I could see the strain in his muscles, the way he winced with each step.
“Stay with me,” I urged, panic threatening to take hold. “We can’t stay here.”
We staggered toward the alley, each step a challenge. His body was fighting against him, and I could feel the weight of it as I helped him move.
The alley was dark, shadowed by the buildings that lined it on both sides. It wasn’t much of a shelter, but it was something. It was enough to get us out of the open, at least for now. We reached the mouth of the alley, and I pulled him into the darkness, my breath coming in ragged bursts.
“Demos, you need to sit down,” I said, my voice shaky as I finally helped him to the ground. His face was pale, and his breath came in shallow gasps. I could see the blood soaking through his shirt, the crimson staining his skin.
He shook his head slightly, eyes locking onto mine with a kind of fierce determination. “I’m fine. We just need to wait until they’re gone.”
“They’re still out there,” I said, the fear creeping back into my chest as I glanced around, half-expecting another shot to come from nowhere. “They’re not done with us.”
Demos didn’t respond right away. His eyes were scanning the alley, “I need to make sure you don’t get hurt.” always alert. He was hurt, but even now, he was thinking about how to protect me.
How to keep us safe.
“We need to keep moving,” he said finally, his voice low but steady. “We can’t stay here.”
But before we could make another move, I heard the screech of tires in the distance. The sound of an engine revving. My heart lurched in my chest. They were coming back.
I looked down at Demos, who was already looking at me, his eyes dark with resolve. His hand moved slowly, reaching for the wound on his side, his fingers brushing the blood, his face tightening with pain.
“Don’t!” I said as I knew what he was going to do.
“This can’t kill me,” He said, “It hurts, but normal bullets can’t kill me.” He stood up