74| The Confrontation

Sophie lay sprawled on the cold pavement, her head throbbing from the sharp pain radiating from her temple.

She felt something warm trickling down the side of her face—blood.

Her thoughts were muddled, disoriented, but the fear clawing at her chest was sharp and real.

Blurry figures loomed over her, their angry shouts blending together, too loud, too close. She tried to move, to push herself up, but rough hands grabbed at her, yanking her back down.

A thick, calloused hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off her screams. Sophie panicked, thrashing wildly beneath his grip. She did the only thing she could—she bit down, hard.

The man let out a sharp yelp, cursing as he yanked his hand away. Sophie barely had time to gasp for air before his palm struck her face hard.

The slap sent her reeling. Pain exploded across her cheek as her head snapped to the side, the world spinning violently.

A ringing filled her ears, drowning out the voices above her. The dizziness was overwhelming, and for a terrifying moment, she thought she might pass out.

No.

She couldn't.

She had to fight.

But her limbs felt like lead, her strength draining with every pounding throb in her skull.

******

Ethan arrived at the alley just in time to see Sophie being hit.

Something inside him shattered.

He had never seen red like this before—not like this. He didn't remember making the decision to move, didn't feel his feet pounding against the pavement, but suddenly, he was there, charging forward.

"Get away from her!"

His voice was raw, thunderous, the force of it vibrating through his chest. He barely registered the way the men flinched at the sound. He didn't care. His only focus was Sophie.

He dropped to his knees beside her, his hands hovering over her fragile frame. His breathing was uneven, his chest tight.

Then she stirred.

Her lashes fluttered weakly before her gaze finally settled on him. And despite everything—despite the blood on her temple, despite the pain in her expression—she smiled.

"Ethan..."

His name, barely a whisper, yet it ripped him apart.

Sophie nestled against his chest, as if knowing she was safe now, and then—her body went slack.

Something inside him twisted violently.

His vision swam, his pulse roaring in his ears. His grip tightened around her for just a moment before he carefully laid her down.

Then he stood.

He turned to face the men, his body going eerily still.

"Who paid you to do this?" His voice was low, dangerous.

One of them, clearly recognizing him, hesitated. "W-we were just following orders, man! Please, we didn't mean for it to go this far—"

Ethan's icy gaze shifted to the man who had hit Sophie. "And was hitting her part of the deal?" he asked in a chillingly quiet voice, his fists clenching at his sides.

The man—cocky, stupid—sneered, spitting onto the ground. "Who the hell do you think you are? You're outnumbered here, yet you think you can intimidate us?"

Wordlessly, he removed his jacket, folding it neatly before setting it down beside Sophie.

Then, he lunged.

The first punch landed squarely against the man's face, the sickening crunch of bone ringing through the alley. The man staggered back, blood already pooling beneath his nose, but Ethan didn't stop.

Another hit. Then another.

The rage poured out of him, relentless, merciless. The others took a step back, uncertainty flickering in their eyes.

"Please! We're sorry!" one of them stammered. "We didn't want to hurt her—"

But Ethan wasn't listening.

He was beyond reason.

Not when Sophie was bleeding. Not when she had been thrown to the ground like she was nothing. Not when his father's shadow still loomed over them both, poisoning everything it touched.

He didn't care if his knuckles split open. Didn't care that his vision was going black around the edges.

The man beneath him groaned, barely conscious.

Ethan pulled his arm back for another blow—

"Ethan, stop!"

A weak but desperate voice cut through the haze.

Sophie.

His movements halted. His breathing ragged.

Slowly, he looked over his shoulder.

She was awake. Barely.

Her eyes, glassy but pleading, were locked onto him.

"Please," she whispered.

Ethan's grip loosened. His shoulders sagged.

He let go.

The man coughed, wheezing as he rolled onto his side, but Ethan didn't look at him anymore.

Jessica's voice rang out, sharp and urgent. "Ethan! The police are here!"

Sirens blared in the distance.

Ethan barely reacted.

He turned, moving toward Sophie as if drawn to her by something unseen. His hands hovered over her face, tracing the air above her skin as if terrified she might break if he touched her too roughly.

He finally let his fingers brush against her cheek, his voice hoarse.

"It's okay," he whispered, his whole body shaking. "I've got you. You're safe now."

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