"Nope," Aisha said, her voice tinged with horror as she shook her head vigorously.

"No," I agreed, not even looking up from my pizza as I took a bite.

Yuki, ever the thrill-seeker, threw her head back in laughter. "It's just a car race, guys," she said, trying to downplay it like it was no big deal.

I scowled, putting my slice down. "Add illegal, Yuki. If the police shows up? My parents won't be thrilled," I added, my tone serious, though I couldn't help the hint of amusement creeping in at the thought of what might happen if I actually went along with this wild idea.

Isabella and Sophia exchanged a glance, their eyes twinkling with silent amusement, probably at how easily I got roped into things. "You know," Isabella started, her voice playful, "You might just need a little adventure in your life."

Sophia grinned, leaning forward. "It's not like we're all strangers to a bit of fun... come on, it could be exciting."

I raised an eyebrow, not fully convinced, but I could already see where this was going. "Exciting doesn't always mean safe," I muttered, but the glint in Yuki's eyes was starting to wear me down.

"Come on, just one race," she pressed, her voice almost like a challenge. "You won't even notice the police, promise."

I glanced at Aisha, whose face was a mix of skepticism and curiosity. "Fine," I said, more to get them off my back than anything else. "But if we get caught, I'm blaming you, Yuki."

Yuki gave a wicked grin. "Deal."

The night suddenly felt electric, and despite the hesitance in my gut, I couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement. Maybe a little chaos wouldn't be the worst thing after all.

_

My smile faltered, then completely vanished the second I stepped into the chaotic scene. The air was thick with smoke, car engines roaring, and the ground trembled beneath the screeching tires of cars performing dangerous stunts. This was madness. My stomach twisted, a knot of panic forming in my chest as I took it all in.

"Dangerous. Utterly idiotic," I muttered under my breath, my eyes wide with disbelief.

Aisha, standing next to me, looked just as horrified. "What have we gotten ourselves into?" she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. I could feel the same unease crawling up my spine, the loud music thumping in the background only adding to the chaos.

Girls, half-dressed, were throwing themselves at the winners, cheering, screaming, their laughter almost manic. The cars zoomed by so fast I could barely keep track of them, tires screeching, engines howling.

A sick feeling twisted in my gut. I could already see the accidents waiting to happen. Someone was going to get hurt. Or worse. I couldn't breathe, the tension in the air so thick I felt suffocated.

"This is... too much," I muttered again, feeling out of place, like a fish out of water in this insane world. I wasn't built for this. I wasn't supposed to be here. I was innocent. Astaighfirullah, why had I let myself get dragged into this?

Yuki turned to us, her face strained with uncertainty. "Maybe it'll be better up front... we're still in the starting," she murmured, her voice tinged with doubt. But it didn't matter. The pit in my stomach grew heavier, a cold dread washing over me. Isabella and Sophia were just as unenthusiastic, their faces tight with discomfort as they glanced around at the madness unfolding.

"No," I said firmly, shaking my head. "I don't think it's going to get better anywhere here." The noise, the chaos—it was unbearable.

Up ahead, the cars lined up, revving their engines like caged beasts waiting to be let loose. The crowd was already buzzing with excitement, and I could see the men and women, standing far too close to the track, some even leaning over the barriers, their eyes wide with manic anticipation. The air reeked of gasoline, sweat, and something far worse—a sense of recklessness that made my skin crawl.

The cars shot forward with an ear-splitting roar, tearing up the ground beneath them, their tires screeching as they fought for control. The crowd erupted, but all I could hear was the hammering of my own heartbeat in my ears.

The worst part? The girls—who were they? I couldn't even bring myself to look at them. The way they threw themselves at the winners like they were trophies, their eyes glazed with desperate excitement, was sickening. It wasn't just attention-seeking; it was like they were all part of this twisted show, as if their worth was only in how much they could cheer and scream for men who treated them like prizes. I felt a lump rise in my throat, nausea twisting inside me. It was vile. And yet, no one seemed to care.

I couldn't even breathe, my head spinning from the overwhelming noise, the flashing lights, the chaos surrounding me. Every fiber of my being screamed at me to leave, but I stayed rooted to the spot, frozen by the overwhelming, gut-wrenching sense of danger that loomed over us all.

I turned to Aisha, who was clutching onto my sleeve, her face pale. "I think we should go," I whispered urgently. Her eyes were wide, and for a split second, I saw the same fear I was feeling reflected in her.

But then... it happened. A car drifted too close to the edge, barely missing the barriers, and the crowd gasped in shock. People screamed in terror as the car skidded dangerously, tires screaming against the asphalt, smoke billowing into the night air. Someone was going to get hit. Someone was going to get hurt.

And that was it.

I grabbed Aisha's arm. "We're leaving. Now."

Before I could take another step, a low chuckle echoed behind me, followed by the sound of footsteps. I turned to find a smug-looking bastard and his group of friends blocking the path. Who the hell were they now?

The guy at the front of the group was tall, with a swagger that reeked of arrogance. His eyes skimmed over me like I was some sort of toy, his lips curling into a grin that sent a chill down my spine. He stepped forward with that casual, menacing confidence.

"What's the rush, sweetie?" he drawled, his voice dripping with mockery as his gaze lingered a little too long. The bastard had the audacity to look me up and down like I was something to be inspected.

My grip on Aisha tightened as I fought the impulse to step back. This wasn't just some random guy—there was something about him, something that sent a warning deep into my gut. He was trouble, and I could feel it in my bones.

I didn't say anything, but my eyes narrowed, waiting for him to make his move.

The guy's smirk only grew wider as he leaned in, lowering his voice to a taunting whisper. "What's the matter, sweetheart? Scared of a little fun?" His words dripped with condescension, his eyes still roaming over me like I was some prize to be claimed.

I could feel my body tense up, every instinct screaming at me to either run or fight. But I wasn't about to let some random jerk think he could intimidate me. I was nobody's prey.

I gave him a tight smile, a dangerous one, as I took a slow step forward, closing the distance between us. "Is that really what you think?" I asked, my tone icy but laced with something else—a quiet promise that I wouldn't let him get away with this.

Behind me, I could feel Aisha, Isabella, Yuki, and Sophia, their presence a solid wall of support. I glanced back at them briefly—Sophia's lips curled into a playful but dangerous smile, Isabella's stance was firm, Yuki's eyes were sharp with protectiveness, and Aisha, though visibly uncomfortable, stood strong beside me.

I wasn't alone in this.

The guy chuckled again, clearly finding amusement in my defiance. "You've got spirit, I'll give you that," he said, stepping even closer. "But let's see how far it'll get you."

I didn't flinch.

Aisha, seeing the situation escalating, took a step forward too. "Back off, man. She said we're leaving," she said, her voice low but fierce.

Isabella joined in, her words cutting through the air. "I don't think he's interested in a 'no,'" she said, her eyes flashing. "So I'm gonna say it one more time. You need to move."

The guy's smile faltered just a little, but he wasn't backing down. "What's this? A little squad of bodyguards?" he sneered, turning his gaze from me to the others. "You all really think you can stop me?"

Yuki stepped in next, her voice calm but with a sharp edge. "You might want to think twice about that," she said, glancing at the group of guys behind him. "Trust me, it won't go the way you think."

The guy's cocky grin didn't falter. Instead, he glanced over his shoulder at his friends, who were stepping closer, their smirks widening, clearly relishing the escalating situation. It was obvious they thought they were untouchable, like they could do whatever they wanted without any consequences.

He turned his attention back to me, and this time, he leaned in, so close I could feel the heat of his breath. "Your friends got a smart mouth," he sneered, eyes narrowing. "I think I'll have to do something about that."

I didn't flinch. I couldn't. But inside, my breath was a little heavier now, my pulse speeding up. There were too many of them, and I could feel the weight of their eyes on me, sizing me up like I was some kind of trophy. My body was tense, ready to fight or flee, but I wouldn't let them see my fear.

I kept my face as cold as ice, my gaze unwavering. "You're really pushing it," I said, my voice steady despite the pounding of my heart. "I'm not scared of you or your friends."

The guys behind him, now moving even closer, encircling us like a pack of wolves, only added to the pressure. I could feel the air thickening around us, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. They were all smug, full of themselves, thinking they had all the power. But they didn't know who they were messing with.

Sophia, Isabella, and Yuki were standing strong beside me, but we were surrounded. The panic I felt wasn't something I could let show. I refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing me weak, of knowing they were getting to me.

"Last chance," I said, my voice a little colder now. "Back off, and this doesn't have to go further."

The guy's laugh echoed in my ears, dark and mocking, and I felt my stomach churn with dread. His arrogance was suffocating, the way he thought he could control this entire situation.

"Oh, we're just getting started, sweetheart."

Before I could process, each of the men had moved in—gripping us, surrounding us. My breath hitched, panic rising in my chest like a wave crashing over me. My heart was hammering against my ribs, blood rushing in my ears. The sharp sting of their hands on my arms made my skin crawl.

"Innocent girls in a not-so-innocent place," the man closest to me murmured, his breath hot against my ear, sending a cold shiver down my spine. "You don't belong here, but... we can make you fit just fine."

My body stiffened, and I felt every muscle seize up as he shoved me forward. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I couldn't breathe. Every step felt like I was being dragged into the darkness of something I had no control over. My eyes darted around, searching for any way out, but they were everywhere, like predators closing in on their prey.

I squeezed my fists, refusing to show them just how terrified I was, even though my hands were trembling uncontrollably. They couldn't know I was scared. I had to stay strong, had to protect myself, had to protect my friends.

But I could feel my throat tightening, the reality of the situation hitting me like a punch to the gut. There was nowhere to run. No one to help.

All I could think was please, please, I couldn't let this be how it ended.

I struggled against his grip, twisting my body, but it was no use. His hold on me was firm, unrelenting. My breaths came in short gasps, panic rising with every failed attempt to break free. The more I fought, the harder he gripped me, dragging me closer.

The smell of alcohol hit me like a wall, thick and overwhelming, as his breath fanned over my face. My stomach churned at the foul scent, and I fought the bile rising in my throat. Oh Allah, what was happening? This couldn't be happening. Not here, not like this.

His fingers dug into my arms, sharp and cold, a vice I couldn't escape from. "You're not going anywhere," he said, his voice thick with the same arrogance that had made my blood run cold.

I jerked again, trying to twist out of his grasp, but he just pulled me closer, his chest pressing against my back. The sound of my heartbeat was deafening in my ears, and I couldn't think, couldn't breathe. I wanted to scream, wanted to fight, but my body felt paralyzed, as if the fear had frozen me in place.

"Let go of me," I whispered, my voice shaking, but he just chuckled darkly, like he enjoyed seeing me this way—weak, vulnerable, helpless.

His fingers tightened on my wrist, his grip stronger than anything I could fight. "You're gonna regret this, sweetheart," he taunted, his words slurred from the alcohol. "A little resistance won't stop us from having some fun."

The world seemed to blur around me, the sound of his voice growing louder, more sinister. Every inch of my skin crawled. I couldn't think straight anymore, couldn't focus on anything but the suffocating dread that gripped me.

I squeezed my eyes shut, praying to Allah, to anyone who could hear me, to make this stop. To make them let me go. Please, I thought desperately, please help us.

It was a moment of panic my teeth sank into the man's fingers with all the strength I could muster, and he yelped in pain, pulling his hand away from my wrist. The brief moment of freedom was enough for me to break away, and before I could even process what was happening, I bolted.

I could hear the man shout, his voice laced with rage and frustration as he chased after me. No. I couldn't let him catch me. I couldn't let any of them get their hands on me again.

I ran faster, weaving between people dancing wildly, stumbling in their drunken haze. The chaotic, disorienting noise of the club—music pounding, voices shouting, laughter—blurred into a maddening buzz around me, but I didn't care. I needed to get away, I needed help, and I wasn't going to stop until I was safe.

The sharp sound of footsteps pounding behind me made my heart race faster. He was getting closer. I didn't dare look back. I couldn't. The taste of fear was like metal on my tongue, my breath coming in jagged gasps as I pushed my legs to run harder.

Please, please, Allah, I prayed as I ran, dodging another person stumbling in my path.

I glanced around, desperate for a way out, but the area was packed—too many people, too many distractions. I tried to find an opening, a way out, but it felt like the walls were closing in on me.

I finally saw the door to the outside—my salvation. My muscles burned from the strain, my body screaming for a break, but I pushed forward, just a few more steps.

I was almost there.

And then—BAM.

A figure slammed into me from behind, sending me crashing into the cold metal of a nearby barrier. My breath left me in a painful whoosh, and I gasped, trying to scramble to my feet, but my legs felt like lead. The man's voice was a low growl, too close, too threatening.

"Where do you think you're going, sweetheart?"

I froze for a second, terror seizing me as I tried to catch my breath, the world spinning. I couldn't... I couldn't let him catch me again.

I felt the adrenaline surge through my veins as I punched him, the satisfaction of landing the blow quickly fading as I broke free. But the panic that gripped me didn't let go. Tears stung at my eyes, blurring my vision as I ran, my breaths ragged and shallow, the pounding of my heart in my ears drowning out the noise around me.

Just keep running. Just keep running. The mantra kept looping in my head, but then—

BAM.

I collided hard into something solid, and before I could even register the impact, I pushed back instinctively, panic gripping my chest like a vise.

I looked up, my pulse stuttering in my throat. And-

Zavian?

His eyes—those cold, calculating eyes—met mine. The surprise was mutual, flickering in his gaze for a split second. The world seemed to slow down, and my stomach twisted painfully. I couldn't even begin to process the fact that Zavian was standing right here, right now. Of all places. Of all people.

I was still shaking, my chest rising and falling with every desperate breath. My body screamed for relief, for safety, but I couldn't feel safe—not here. Not with the way his eyes studied me, sharp and predatory, as if nothing had happened between us.

I barely noticed the people around him at first, the haze of fear clouding my senses. But I did recognize one of them. Siera.

My mind flickered back to the situation I had just barely escaped, but before I could even think about stepping away, the sound of footsteps stopped me cold.

"Oh, there you are," came a low, mocking drawl, dripping with smugness.

My breath hitched as the bastard from earlier appeared in my peripheral vision, his nose bleeding, a twisted grin spreading across his face. His eyes were wild, like a predator who'd finally cornered its prey.

He grabbed my arm with vicious force, yanking me towards him. "Fun night, remember?" he taunted, that grin never leaving his face.

I recoiled in panic, trying to yank my arm free, but his grip was unrelenting, fingers like iron shackles against my skin.

No. No, no, no.

I thrashed against him, my breath hitching as he pulled me flush against him, the smell of alcohol clinging to him like a stench. His grip tightened, his lips curling into something sickly amused. My stomach twisted.

His eyes flickered—lower. My pulse spiked in horror.

Oh shit. Oh no.

"Don't!" I gasped, pure panic clawing up my throat as I pushed against him. But before he could do anything—before I could even process what was happening—his face contorted in pain.

His grip vanished.

I stumbled back, blinking in shock, breath still shaky.

And then I saw him.

Zavian.

He moved like a shadow, like a silent executioner. His face was eerily blank, empty of any emotion, save for the sharp glint in his dark eyes. A glint that promised something violent. Dangerous.

He had the bastard's wrist twisted at a sickening angle, his grip unyielding. The man let out a choked sound, trying to wrench away, but Zavian didn't let him. His fingers dug in deeper, his movements slow, precise—deliberate.

And then, just as the man opened his mouth—maybe to curse, maybe to beg—Zavian struck.

A single punch, brutal and efficient, straight to the nose.

Crack.

The sound of cartilage snapping filled the air. Blood splattered, and the bastard howled, clutching his face as he stumbled back, nearly collapsing onto his knees.

But Zavian wasn't done.

He stepped forward, towering over the man like a predator sizing up its prey. There was no hesitation, no mercy in his stance. He tilted his head slightly, expression unreadable, before he reached down, grabbing the guy by his shirt and hauling him up with a single hand.

"You really thought," Zavian murmured, his voice impossibly low, laced with something dark, deadly, "you could touch her and walk away breathing?"

A shiver ran down my spine.

The man tried to stammer something, but Zavian didn't wait. He slammed him against the hood of a nearby car, hard enough to make the metal groan under the impact.

I stood frozen, breath shallow, unable to look away.

Zavian wasn't just fighting.

He was teaching a lesson.

"Zavy—" Siera started hesitantly, taking a cautious step forward.

Zavian cut her off with a single glare. A warning. A silent, unspoken don't.

And just like that, she stopped.

I swallowed, still rooted in place, watching as he turned his gaze back to the man now trembling beneath his grip. His fingers tightened around the bastard's throat, the tendons in his forearm flexing as he pressed him harder against the car hood.

"You think you can walk into a place like this," Zavian murmured, voice quiet—too quiet, "get your filthy hands on someone I know... and live to tell the story?"

The man choked out a panicked, garbled noise, hands clawing at Zavian's wrist.

No use.

Zavian wasn't letting go.

Not yet.

His grip didn't waver, his posture casual, effortless—like this was nothing but an inconvenience. A minor disturbance in his night.

I should look away. I should step in.

But I couldn't.

Because for the first time tonight, I wasn't the one afraid.

The bastard's bloodied face twisted in horror, his body shuddering violently against the hood of the car. "P-Please—" he rasped, voice barely audible.

Zavian exhaled slowly, as if contemplating his next move. Then, with the same eerie calm, he leaned in, his lips barely an inch from the man's ear.

"Run."

The word was soft. Lethal.

And the second Zavian let go, the bastard collapsed onto the ground, gasping, scrambling to his feet before bolting into the crowd without a single look back.

Coward.

A thick, suffocating silence settled over the space. I could still hear the distant roar of engines, the bass of the music thumping in my chest. But here, right now, it felt like the world had stopped.

Zavian turned then, dark eyes locking onto mine.

And for the first time tonight, I didn't know whether I should thank him—or run from him too.