Hunted in the Dark

Esmeralda’s POV

“Let me go!” I screamed, pounding my fists against the guard’s back as he carried me out into the freezing night. My fists hit his broad back, but it was like striking stone. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t slow.

When we reached the estate gates, he stopped and, without a hint of hesitation, dropped me onto the pavement. Pain shot through my hip as I hit the cold ground. I winced but refused to cry out.

“I’m sorry, madame,” he said, giving a shallow bow. “But I have my orders.”

I pushed myself up, barely able to stay on my knees. Rage burned in my throat. “I’m your boss. Or did that somehow slip your mind?”

His gaze met mine, full of something like regret, but not enough to matter. “Not anymore. Please forgive me.”

Then he turned and walked away. His figure disappeared into the shadows, leaving me at the edge of everything I had ever known. I wanted to scream after him. I wanted to demand he turn around. But my voice failed me. Even my tears seemed too tired to fall.

Shaking, I rose to my feet. Each movement sent needles of pain through my limbs. My bare feet stung against the concrete. My dress, once elegant and pristine, hung in torn ribbons around me. I looked up. The sky offered no comfort. It was pitch black, and the stars had vanished.

I had been drugged, robbed, betrayed. And now, thrown out like I was nothing.

A wave of despair rolled through me. I was Esmeralda Lawson, heiress to the Lawson estate, a name that once opened doors and silenced rooms. Now I was barefoot, penniless, and alone on the side of a road no one would dare walk at night.

My mind was foggy. Whatever they had slipped into my drink still clung to my senses, dulling my thoughts and making it hard to hold on to anything but the pain.

And the memories.

My parents had died in a car crash when I was sixteen. Since then, it had been me against the world. I should have known better than to trust anyone. I should have listened to my mother’s words.

“Invest in people who invest in you. True friends are not found. They are made.”

I had let Elena in. I had believed Antonio when he promised loyalty. I had believed their smiles, their promises, their lies. And now I was paying the price for that mistake.

I didn’t even know where I was heading. My legs carried me forward, but my mind drifted. That’s when I collided with someone.

A tall man stepped back, snarling. “Watch it, bitch.”

His voice was low and rough, and when I looked up, a cigarette dangled from his lip. A jagged scar ran down the side of his face.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, instinctively stepping back. But his eyes locked on me with an expression that turned my stomach. His gaze moved slowly down my body, and a sick smile curled on his lips.

He snapped his fingers. “Boys. Come take a look at this.”

From the shadows, three more men emerged. Their grins were cruel, and the air around them turned colder with their presence.

“Well now,” one said, licking his lips. “What do we have here?”

“Little miss lost and helpless,” another chimed in, chuckling as he looked me over. “Looks like her luck ran out tonight.”

One of them stepped close and grabbed my chin, forcing my face up to his. His fingers were dirty and reeked of smoke and alcohol.

“Get your hands off me,” I spat, yanking my face away.

He laughed, but there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes. Maybe I didn’t look as broken as I felt.

“She’s got some fight,” the scar-faced man said, amused. “So, boys, what should we do with her?”

“You know the drill,” one answered. “She won’t be needing her pride or her virtue out here.”

Their laughter swelled around me. My heart pounded against my ribs as they closed in. I tried to back away, but they circled me like wolves.

“Please,” I said, my voice shaking. “Let me go. I’ll give you anything I have.”

“Anything?” the biggest one asked, raising a brow. “Sweetheart, you don’t look like you’ve got two coins to rub together.”

He wasn’t wrong. I had nothing. No money. No phone. No one to call. My stomach growled loudly, humiliating me further.

They burst into laughter.

“Hungry too? Poor little thing,” one mocked. “Don’t worry. We’ll take real good care of you.”

Their idea of care was carved into their expressions, and it wasn’t kindness.

The scarred man lunged forward and grabbed my arm. I twisted and fought, but he yanked me toward a nearby alley. My limbs flailed. I kicked, but I was weak. Too weak.

“Let me go,” I cried, struggling. My voice broke. “Please... stop.”

“Shut your mouth,” he growled.

Then something changed.

His body went rigid. His grip loosened. I blinked in confusion, then gasped when I saw the blood running down his face. His eyes rolled back, and his body collapsed in a heap beside me.

The others turned, stunned. One had his hand halfway to a knife, but it was too late.

From the shadows, a figure stepped forward. He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed entirely in black. I could only see half his face in the faint light, but his presence made the air feel charged.

He moved without sound, like a shadow come to life. He swung a steel baton with precision, striking the second man across the skull. The thug dropped instantly.

“Who the hell are you?” one of them shouted, but the man didn’t answer. He moved again, and the third attacker was down before he had time to scream.

The last one hesitated, then ran off, spitting a threat as he vanished into the dark.

I stood frozen, unable to speak. My body trembled from shock and cold, but I couldn’t look away from the stranger.

He turned to me. I could barely make out the sharp lines of his face, but his eyes cut through the night.

“You’re hurt,” he said quietly.

I nodded, my throat dry. “Who are you?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled off his coat and gently placed it around my shoulders. Warmth spread through me, but it only made the tears sting more.

“Can you walk?”

“I think so,” I whispered.

“Then come. You don’t belong here.”

There was no softness in his voice, but I sensed something deeper. Something almost human.

“Why did you help me?” I asked.

He paused just long enough to glance back.

“You looked like you wanted to live.”

Then he walked ahead.

And even though my instincts told me to stay behind, I followed.