Nothing.
He’s yanked away so cleanly it’s like he wasn’t even there. I allow myself a sob of relief as I turn my head, and see an enormous shadow throw Pete bodily against the wall. He cowers back, raising his hands, but the glint of steel flashes yellow and black under the streetlights. Droplets of blood arc through the air as Pete yelps, snatching his hands back, cradling them against his chest.
“What the fuck?” He sounds genuinely terrified, and I know I should be stepping in to prevent this. I’m a sworn officer of the law, it’s my job. But a little voice inside insists: He’s getting what he deserves.
The broad, towering shadow steps forward again, an expensive dark suit catching the light, but no features are visible. He doesn’t say a word as he grabs Pete by the chin, tilting his head up. And the hunting knife glints hungrily.
“What are you doing? Fuck!”
I watch with sickened awe as the shadow crouches, the blade moving to the side of Pete’s face. A thick hand is suddenly clasped over his mouth, muffling his screams as he struggles. It’s no use. The shadow is too big, too strong, holding him still as it works the knife.
“I don’t…” I tense at the sound of a woman’s voice, then realize it’s my own. “Don’t kill him,” I plead, like I have any control here. “Please don’t. Just let him go.”
The shadow spares me a single glance, then goes back to work, sawing the knife back and forth, back and forth, working away as Pete kicks and flails and tries to scream, but it’s all in vain. The soft squelch of rending flesh punctuates each movement, and all I can do is watch.
Finally, the shadow stands back, releasing its grip, and dangles something soft and fleshy in front of Pete’s face.
“There. Now you have an excuse when you don’t hear the word no, you fucking worm.” The voice is deep, rumbling, with just the slightest hint of an accent. “Be grateful she’s here to spare your life. I ever see you in this city again, they’ll find your body floating in the river.”
Pete collapses in tears, retching against the filthy ground, and the shadow drops whatever he was holding on the back of his head, then turns my way. Even in the darkness, I can feel his gaze boring into my own, and I’m aware of some connection on a primal level. Somehow we’re linked now. I owe him, I know that, but it’s more.
What just happened should sicken me, but it doesn’t. I can’t explain it, but all I feel is gratitude.
“Th—thank you. I think he was going to…”
The thought of what he was going to do makes me shudder, and I breathe out a labored breath, turning my head away, trying not to vomit. Rape. He was going to rape me. I can still hear Pete sobbing.
Good. It’s what he deserves.
I shouldn’t be thinking those thoughts but I am.
“Hey.” The deep voice is close now, but I don’t turn. If I see his face, I’ll have a dilemma. My job or my gratitude? “Tell me to end him and I’ll do it.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I don’t want that. He’s learned his lesson.”
I hear him draw a deep breath, then feel warm fingers brushing the hair out of my face. This isn’t like Pete trying to touch me. Not at all. This is controlled power, concern. I feel safe with this man.
“I should go,” I tell him. “I live just around the corner. I’ll be fine now.”
“You’re not going anywhere. At least not alone. Rose, isn’t it?”
“Yes, have we—” Without thinking, I turn my head. The light from the streetlamp illuminates one side of his face, the other side in deep shadow.
And I draw a quick breath.
It’s him.
It’s my target.
Apollo Volos.