Page 2 of Bound By Valor

Startled, I looked up just in time to see the two men turning their gaze towards me. Dropping my gym bag to the side, I braced myself, ready for what might come next. Boxing had taught me well—I knew how to throw a punch: straight, uppercut, shuffle, hook. With my hands still wrapped from class, I felt oddly prepared and grateful for it.

As the blond man advanced towards me, adrenaline surged. I picked up my pace, leaped against the wall to gain height over the six-foot assailant, and delivered a forceful kick right to his jaw. The impact sent his knife skittering away across the alley.

The news about Adriano had been gnawing at me. Although part of me felt justice had been served, another part was frustrated—deeply frustrated. I hadn’t been the one to end his torment on me. Tonight, as I stood in this alley, every nerve in my body was primed, every muscle coiled. I really needed to kick someone’s ass today. It was more than self-defense; it was a necessary catharsis that no amount of punching bags or controlled sparring could ever provide.

“This bitch,” the buzz cut hissed, his voice echoing off the grimy alley walls.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the injured dark-haired man smirking, even as he clutched at a wound I couldn’t quite see. Driven by adrenaline, I delivered a swift uppercut followed by a hook, thenshuffled to his leading side to land a solid punch right in his gut. He was so unprepared—clearly not a boxer—that he didn’t even attempt to block.

As I was about to throw another punch, Blondie grabbed my braided hair and yanked me back toward him. Reacting instinctively, I spun around, pivoting off the pull, and grabbed him by the neck, delivering a sloppy but effective knee to his nose. I glanced over, expecting Buzz Cut to jump into the fray, but found him on the ground, the dark-haired man now surprisingly upright and active.

“I got this,” he declared, hurling a knife so close it nearly grazed me, likely finding its mark in Blondie.

Within seconds, the alley was empty except for us, Blondie and Buzz Cut stumbling away with a trail of curses. My hands shook with the intensity of the encounter. My nerves shot. The dark-haired man let out a chuckle, his deep voice annoyingly calm in the aftermath.

He’s laughing?

“Excuse me? I think you owe me an explanation. And a thank you wouldn’t hurt,” I scoffed, my frustration palpable.

He approached slowly, closing the distance until he towered over me. His hands gently gripped my shoulders, nudging me into the streetlight. He brushed his knuckles softly against my cheek, his voice low and steady, “They cut you.”

The light hit his face just right, illuminating the powerful lines of his jaw shadowed by the light stubble. His tanned skin caught the yellow glow of the streetlight, his dark eyes shimmering with a golden intensity. He was, unexpectedly, the most striking man I’d ever seen.

It took a moment for his words to register. Instinctively, my hands flew to my cheek, coming away with traces of blood. Nothing, though, compared to the dark-haired man’s hands, soaked through with it.

“Did you get stabbed?” I asked, my voice shaky from the adrenaline still coursing through me.

He glanced nonchalantly at his belly. His black shirt underneath his jacket was drenched and shining with slick blood. “I guess, yeah.”

“Do you live nearby?” he asked, scanning the intersection.

“Y-yes,” I managed, my reply faltering.

“Good. We’re going to your place.”

“Wait, what?” The words tumbled out before I could think.

“Don’t you want to finish saving me? I thought that’s why you were flying around kicking ass.”

His words hung in the air, laced with a half-mocking challenge. For a moment, I hesitated, torn. Was I really considering taking a bloodied stranger to my home? The thought spun around in my mind, wrestling with the adrenaline still pumping through my veins. How irresponsible could I be in a single night? Yet, there he stood, smirking as if he’d already known I’d say yes, his presence a strange and sudden weight in my life. The decision teetered on the edge of recklessness. Could I walk away?

My hesitant laugh broke through, betraying my nerves, yet my voice was steady as I replied, “Sure, damsel. Let’s get you patched up.”

There was a flicker of amusement, perhaps surprise, in his eyes at my agreement. He nodded, gesturing for me to take the lead, and followed me aswe made our way to my apartment.

TWO

Zarek

Stepping further into her apartment, my gaze darted to a small urn and a portrait of a charming cat perched atop a bookshelf.

“I’m sorry about,” I leaned in to read the name inscribed on the urn, “Ada.”

She shot me a look of mild amusement and commanded, “Take off your jacket.”

“We’re not—” I began, but my words faltered as she shrugged off her denim jacket and draped it over a chair by the kitchen island. Beneath the jacket, her figure was unexpectedly striking—tall, slender, yet defined in all the right places. The jacket had concealed much more than I expected, including the pert little ass she’d been hiding in those cargo pants. Despite the stabbing pain in my gut, a different heat flared within me.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop. I need to check that wound,” she interjected, snapping me back to the present. Needless to say, her confidence wasunshaken. If only she knew who she let into her apartment.

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