Stuck with the enemy

When I finally got home, it was as if the weight of the night was clinging to me, refusing to let go. Each step I'd taken along the way, every shadow cast by the dim streetlights, brought back flashes of what had happened. I was still in one piece, but my mind couldn't stop replaying those moments, trying to pull any detail that might reveal the identity of my mysterious rescuer. And as I went over every second, I knew one thing: I could have fought my way out if I'd needed to. I've always handled myself, even in the worst situations, but this time... this time was different. Curiosity lingered, weaving into my usual resolve.

Settling into bed, I couldn't help but wonder if Derek could have been the one who'd stepped in. The thought seemed absurd, like some joke I was playing on myself. And yet, something about his presence-the way he moved, the look he'd had-felt familiar. But why would hebother? Derek's smirk and unshakable arrogance had never hinted at anything close to compassion.

Then the texts started.

The first was simple. Did you get home safe? No name, no number, just that. It was enough to add fuel to the flames of my curiosity. I didn't respond, but more messages trickled in, each asking if I was alright, each anonymous. With each ping, the idea that someone might be watching crept further into my mind. And while my pride kept me from telling anyone, the messages left me on edge. I found myself glancing over my shoulder, my senses hyperaware, unable to shake the feeling that I was being followed.

Eventually, exhaustion won, pulling me into a fitful sleep. My dreams blurred into memories, memories tangled with suspicions, and one nagging question lingered as I drifted off: who would go to such lengths for me?

The next morning, I pushed open the café door with a determined stride, resolute in my plan to focus on work and put the night behind me. Yet as I inhaled the familiar scents-rich coffee mingling with the faint hint of strawberries from the café's signature candle-my heart seemed to beat a little faster. The memories were still there, haunting the edges of my thoughts, but I was here to work, and today was busy. Alya even gave me an appreciative nod; she knew how much I loved the energy of a full house.

But whenever I had a moment to myself, my thoughts drifted back. Alone behind the counter, I felt that prickle of mystery again. My rescuer's presence was a puzzle, pieces scattered just out of reach, and the more I dwelled on it, the more I needed answers. Quietly, I decided I'd start finding them, piecing together the clues on my own terms.

Later in the day, Mason walked in, a familiar face among the crowd. His warm smile caught my eye immediately, and he made his way over. It was hard to tell if he was simply being friendly or if there was something more, but one thing was clear-he was watching out for me. Taking a chance, I decided to probe, trying to keep it casual.

"Last night was wild, wasn't it?" I said, giving him a knowing smile. "Lucky for me, I got home in one piece." Could it have been him? Was Mason the one who'd appeared in the darkness to protect me?

I hadn't expected his reaction. The smile fell from his face, his brow furrowing as concern overtook his features. "Were you in trouble?" he asked, his voice carrying an urgency that surprised me. He reached out, his hand brushing my arm as if he needed to feel that I was safe.

The small gesture stopped me. Mason's concern seemed genuine, like he didn't had any idea. But for a fleeting moment, I wanted to believe it had been him. Now my thoughts were spinning, running over every possibility. Whoever had intervened that night had gone out of their way, and I wasn't ready to let it go.

---

Just as I started to feel like myself again, I sensed someone watching me. It was that prickling feeling at the back of my neck that I couldn't ignore. I turned subtly, scanning the room, but everything seemed normal. Alya was behind the counter chatting with a customer, and the rest of the crowd looked absorbed in their own worlds. But that unsettling feeling didn't leave. It only grew stronger.

Then, through the door came a figure I didn't recognize. His face was striking-sharp eyes, an intense gaze-and he seemed to be studying the room, absorbing every detail. He wore a dark coat and moved with a quiet confidence that gave him an air of someone who knew more than he was letting on.

He took a seat at a table near the counter, close enough to hear snippets of my conversation with Mason. Every now and then, his gaze would drift over to me, a small smile flickering at the corners of his mouth, almost as if he were privy to a private joke. The way he watched me was unsettling but oddly familiar, as though he knew more about me than he should.

After a while, he approached the counter with a casual demeanor, placing his order with a practiced charm. I caught his eyes, and there was something in them-a glint that seemed to say he knew something I didn't.

As I handed him his coffee, he lingered, his eyes meeting mine in a way that felt deliberate, almost calculated.

"Rough night?" he asked, his voice smooth, hinting at something deeper. I blinked, taken aback.

"How... would you know that?" I replied, trying to keep my tone light, though suspicion had already taken root.

He smiled, a slow, knowing smile that seemed to stretch out the seconds. "I was around. Saw you might need a hand," he murmured, leaning closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sometimes, it's good to have someone watching over you."

For a moment, I froze, the implications swirling in my mind. Could it have been him? The way he looked at me, like he had a stake in my well-being, made me uneasy but strangely intrigued. My mind raced, comparing the details from the night before with what I was seeing now. It could have been him...

I swallowed, forcing myself to keep my expression neutral. "Well, thanks, I guess," I replied, trying to gauge his reaction.

He raised his cup in a small toast. "Anytime," he said, his voice soft but carrying a weight that unsettled me.

He walked back to his table, giving me one last glance over his shoulder, the faint smile still lingering. My instincts told me something was off about him, but the part of me craving answers wanted to believe his story. But as he settled back into his seat, I didn't catch the glint in his eye-a flicker of something dark and possessive.

Alya's voice snapped me out of my thoughts, pulling me back to reality. But my gaze drifted back to him, who now seemed completely absorbed in his coffee, as if our conversation had never happened.