“That’s what I figured,” he murmured as he walked toward the bins.
I didn’t respond. Grabbing my gym bag, I left the warmth of the studio for the crisp night air. Our awkward conversation left me swimming in questions. Why did it feel like he was trying to provoke me? Why couldn’t I have left right after class like everyone else? Were classes always going to feel that awkward in the future? Did I need to consider switching gyms?
The maelstrom of questions and internal debates occupied my complete focus, which was why I didn’t notice the hooded figure leaning against the wall at the entrance of an alley. A hand shot out and clasped my arm, yanking me to the side. When I looked up in surprise, I caught a brief glimpse of the man’s profile against the city streetlight. It was angular and harsh—the sharp features of pure ruthlessness.
“What the—” I didn’t get another word out. His warm, calloused hand clamped over my mouth from behind as he dragged me deeper into the shadows of the alley. I squirmed and thrashed, but between my shock and being unsteady as he tugged me along, I couldn’t come up with a single move to free myself.
“Peekaboo, I found you,” the man cooed near my ear just as he slowed enough for me to get my bearings.
His words sent unadulterated terror surging through my veins.
I’d been found. It only took three months.
I didn’t recognize the man, but he clearly knew who I was and knew I was on the run. Was he there to take me back? Or was he just going to kill me there in the alley?
My mind tried to launch into a chaotic panic, but I shoved it all into a back room in my brain, turned off the light and slammed the door shut.
This was no time to fall apart.
I had a matter of seconds before this man either killed me or captured me. I couldn’t let either of those happen.
Time stretched and yawned, dragging out each moment in clarifying detail, when in reality, our encounter only consumed a handful of seconds. In that oddity of time distortion, I flipped through my mental playbook of options and committed to my next move.
He held me in a type of bear hug, one hand over my mouth, the other gripping my chest tightly, both keeping me firmly pressed against him, with my arms forced down at my sides. I folded over with as much force as I could, bending at the waist, then slid my hips to the side to give my hand room to swing backward at his groin. I performed the series of movements in quick succession, catching my attacker by surprise and landing a perfect strike. He bellowed a curse, and his arms reflexively contracted backward, giving me room to yank myself free of his grasp.
It worked.
I had freed myself of his grasp but done so in a way that still left me trapped. The man stood doubled over between me and the street. My only chance at escape was to run past him and risk being captured again. I had no choice. I lunged forward and used all my force to push past him, but his iron grip clamped down over my wrist on my way past.
He yanked me back into the alley so hard, it felt like he had dislocated my shoulder. My natural instinct was to curl in on myself protectively as pain radiated down my arm, but he yanked me to him and pressed my front against the icy brick wall, one hand clamped over my mouth and the other grasping my hands behind my back.
The metallic taste of fear coated my tongue, and my breathing shuddered as sobs began to wrack my chest. But before the man could make his next move, a curse came from the mouth of the alley.
My attacker was yanked off me. I scurried a few steps away, but instead of running, I found myself watching in awe as my savior pummeled the other man. It was dark, and my rescuer’s back was to me, but I could still see that he wore the same black track pants and red gym shirt he’d been wearing moments before in class.
It was Tamir. He’d saved me.
His strikes were perfectly clean, performed with expert precision. Like a machine. A killing machine. It was beautiful and terrible to behold. Nothing like what I witnessed in class. At full speed and with deadly intent, Tamir no longer resembled a dancer. He was a predator. Fierce and merciless.
The two men exchanged only a dozen parries before my hooded attacker collapsed to the ground, unconscious. At least, I thought he was unconscious.
“You didn’t kill him, did you?” I hissed.
Tamir slowly turned, his chest rising and falling at an accelerated rate—the only evidence he’d just been in a fight. “He just attacked you. Do you really care if he’s dead?”
“No … yes. Yes, I do.”
He closed the distance between us and looked me up and down. “Are you hurt?”
My breath caught in my throat, and my hand flew to my necklace for reassurance. “No, I’m fine. Let’s just forget this happened. I need to go.” I was doused in two competing emotions—terror and relief. Seeing Tamir there in the darkness, knowing he had stopped that man from doing God knew what, I desperately wanted to launch myself into his arms. But he’d nearly killed a man without a thought. The savagery in his black gaze terrified me, keeping me rooted in place.
“This man just tried to mug you. Don’t you want to call the cops?”
“No.” My response was immediate and absolute, which I knew sounded odd. Why the hell would a woman not want to call the police when she’d just been attacked? I began to pace. “Look, I’m fine. No harm done. I know it seems strange, but can you please just let it go?”
The possible consequences of my night cascaded like dominoes before me. Was this attacker the man who’d been at my apartment? Holy shit. What was I supposed to do now? How had this happened? If I’d been found this quickly, would I ever be free? Was there any point in relocating and trying again? Did I have any other option? Would I have to live the rest of whatever short life I had on the run?
“Emily!” Two strong hands gripped my shoulders and shook me firmly.
I drifted back to the present and realized Tamir had been speaking to me, but I’d been so entirely lost in my thoughts that I hadn’t heard a word he’d said. I peered up at his face, searching his features for answers he couldn’t give me.
“He’s going to wake up any minute. If we aren’t calling the police, then we need to leave. Let me walk you back to your apartment.”
I shook my head frantically. “No, I can’t go back. It’s not safe there. You don’t understand.”
His hands lifted from my shoulders to my cheeks, holding me in place. His forehead creased with confusion, making me panic even more.
“Calm down,” he soothed gently. “We don’t have to go to your place, but I’m not leaving you here. We can go to my place. You can explain to me what’s going on, and we’ll figure out what to do from there once you’re thinking more clearly. Okay?” His hands didn’t leave my face until I managed a hesitant nod.
He took one of my hands in his and pulled me toward the street, allowing me to grab my gym bag from where it had fallen when I was first attacked. His hand seared me with its heat, and I clung to it as if he were the lifeline I desperately needed.
I hadn’t been far from the studio, so we made it back within minutes. He took me to the tenant entrance beside the studio, and we climbed the stairs to the second floor. An eerie fog blanketed my mind on the way over. I felt numb and distant. As if my life was no longer recognizable.