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Rain drizzled softly against the pavement, the city alive with the sounds of honking taxis and distant sirens. Lily Harrington pulled her coat tighter around her body as she walked briskly down the dimly lit street. It was late-too late for her to be out alone-but she'd lost track of time at the library, buried in case studies for her criminal law class.
Her apartment was only a few blocks away, and she told herself she was fine. It was New York, after all. The city never really slept.
As she turned the corner onto a quieter street, a sense of unease settled over her. The usual buzz of the city faded, replaced by something more sinister-an eerie stillness. The hair on the back of her neck prickled.
That's when she saw them.
A group of men stood near a blacked-out SUV, their voices hushed but urgent. The glow of a streetlamp caught the sharp gleam of a gun as one of them pressed it against another man's temple. The victim-a middle-aged man in a tailored suit-was trembling, his hands raised in surrender.
Lily froze. Her breath hitched.
This wasn't some petty mugging. This was something else.
Her mind screamed at her to turn around, to run-but her body betrayed her, rooted to the spot.
And then, as if sensing her presence, one of the men lifted his head.
Her heart stopped.
He was tall-easily over six feet-with sharp cheekbones and piercing dark eyes that locked onto her with lethal precision. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, the expensive fabric clinging to his powerful frame. But there was something colder about him, something dangerous in the way he stared at her.
Lily sucked in a breath.
Run.
She spun on her heel, but she barely made it two steps before she heard the deep, commanding voice.
"Stop."
Her body reacted against her will, her muscles tensing. She didn't turn around, but she didn't move either.
Footsteps echoed against the pavement, slow and deliberate, growing closer. Her pulse pounded in her ears.
A warm presence loomed behind her, too close, too consuming.
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