Mine to Keep

ALIE

What a shit day.

I duck into the alley beside the bar, sandals slipping on the slick pavement. My date was twenty minutes late — no text, no call. Just another ghost. The moment I muttered fuck this and pushed through the crowd, the sky cracked open like it was waiting for me. Sheets of rain soaked me in seconds, mascara bleeding, skirt clinging to my thighs like dead weight.

Perfect. Just perfect.

Thunder rolls, deep and bone-rattling, followed by a jagged flash of light that makes me flinch. Whoever pissed in Mother Nature's Cheerios... she's really not holding back tonight.

I huddle near the brick wall, shivering, cursing the top I bought for the stupid occasion. My hair sticks to my cheeks in wet clumps as I wrestle my phone from my purse. Uber. Home. Pajamas. Wine. Forget tonight ever happened.

But as I fumble with the screen, my stomach twists. That prickling, primal warning that crawls along the back of your neck. Like eyes dragging across my skin. I whip my head over my shoulder.

Dark alley. Nothing.

Still, the sensation doesn't fade. If anything, it settles heavier. My fingers tremble over the screen. I force myself to breathe. It's fine. Just nerves. Just the storm.

⸻

CAINE

Everything happens for a reason. My therapist said that once. He never asked what my reasons were.

From the shadows, I watch her. She's all wet skin and frustration, vulnerable in a way that makes my pulse slow and steady. I know she thinks she's unlucky, but I designed this night. Just like the others. The dates that never happened, the men who mysteriously lost interest. I make sure of it.

She doesn't know how much she needs me.

I lean against the damp wall, moss staining my jacket, the rain hammering the world around us into white noise. She wraps her arms around herself, teeth catching her lower lip, trying not to cry. The misery radiates off her like heat, and I drink it in.

Her Uber? Twenty minutes out. I already checked. I always check.

She tilts her head back, eyes closed, rain dripping from her lashes. For a moment, she looks like surrender itself. That's when I notice them — two men at the far end of the alley, eyes on her. Their laughter is sharp, cutting through the storm. One points.

My jaw tightens.

My game was supposed to be patience. Staying hidden. Staying close. But predators don't circle my prey.

Not unless they want to learn the hard way that she's already mine. Always.

———

ALIE

The sound of laughter cuts through the rain.

Not close, but close enough. My eyes snap open, pulse stuttering. Two shapes stumble out of the storm further down the alley — men, weaving on their feet, bottles flashing in their hands. Drunk. Loud. Dangerous.

I shrink back against the wall instinctively, dragging my purse tighter to my side. My Uber is still fifteen minutes away, the little map mocking me with its snail's pace progress. My stomach knots.

Don't panic. Just breathe. Don't draw attention.

But their heads have already turned toward me.

One nudges the other with his elbow, grinning. "Hey sweetheart," he slurs, voice riding the thunder. "Storm's no place for a girl like you. Need some company?"

My mouth goes dry. I force a shaky laugh, hugging myself tighter. "No, I'm fine. Thanks."

They laugh harder, stumbling closer. My fingers fumble at my phone again, but the screen slips under my wet grip. My thumb misses the emergency call icon twice. My chest is a cage of rattling fear.

Something shifts deeper in the alley. A scrape. A presence. For one second, the men don't notice — but I do. The sensation of being watched sharpens, no longer distant. It's right here. Right behind me.

⸻

CAINE

Idiots.

Their laughter scrapes against my ears like broken glass, their eyes crawling over her as if she were a meal waiting to be devoured. My meal. My game.

I push off the wall, the leather of my jacket groaning softly with the motion. The men are too drunk to notice at first. She notices, though — her gaze flicks toward the shadow where I've been hiding. Her instincts are sharper than she knows.

I let them see me. Slowly, deliberately, I step out of the dark.

The taller one squints. "The fuck—?"

I don't bother answering. My silence is louder than words. I keep my eyes locked on her, not them, as I close the distance. She looks terrified — shivering, unsure if I'm another threat or some warped salvation. The storm rages around us, but all I hear is the quick, shallow pull of her breath.

The men mutter to each other. One takes a step back. The other doesn't.

"Back off, buddy," he sneers, raising his bottle like a weapon.

Finally, I look at him. Just a glance. Just enough for him to feel what I've been holding back. The storm outside has nothing on the violence humming in my veins.

His bravado cracks first. He mutters something to his friend, and together they stagger away into the rain, swallowed by the night.

Silence returns, thick and heavy.

I turn back to her. Her lips part, as if she's about to speak, but the words die in her throat. She doesn't thank me. She doesn't scream. She just stares — wide-eyed, uncertain — as if she already knows the truth.

I step closer, close enough to smell the rain in her hair. Close enough to whisper, if I wanted to.

But I don't.

Not yet.

Tonight, the game has only just begun.

———

ALIE

My heart is still hammering when they're gone, their drunken laughter fading into the storm. The alley feels emptier without them — but not safer.

Because now he's here.

The man who stepped out of the shadows.

I swallow hard, my back pressing against the wall as if I could merge with it. He hasn't spoken. Not one word. Just stood there, silent, steady, like he owns the space between us. The storm paints him in sharp relief — black leather glistening with rain, dark hair plastered to his forehead, eyes too sharp to belong to someone drunk or stumbling.

For a wild, desperate second, I want to thank him. He did scare them off, after all. Without him, maybe those men... I cut the thought off, shoving it down, because the relief curdling in my chest doesn't erase the fear crawling up my spine.

Why was he just standing there? In the alley. Watching.

My lips part, but my voice doesn't work. All I manage is a shaky breath that fogs in the cold air. He steps closer. Not fast. Not threatening. Just... closer. My skin prickles, warning bells clanging louder with every inch.

I clutch my purse like a lifeline, forcing words past my dry throat. "Thank you," I whisper, though it sounds more like a question.

He doesn't answer. Just watches me, expression unreadable. Lightning splits the sky above us, throwing his face into stark, momentary detail.

And that's when it hits me.

I've seen him before.

Not clearly. Not up close. But that shape — broad shoulders in a dark jacket, the way he lingers on the edges of places. Once outside my building. Once at the café. A trick of the eye, I told myself then. Coincidence.

But now...

Now my blood runs cold.

The Uber app pings, announcing my driver is five minutes away. The sound is too loud in the silence between us. He tilts his head at the noise, a faint smile curling at the edge of his mouth, and my stomach drops.

I don't know if I should run. Or if that would only make it worse.

My pulse is still racing, but something stubborn in me won't let him see it. If this guy thinks I'm just some soaked, helpless damsel... he's dead wrong.

I push off the wall, crossing my arms tight over my chest. The skirt sticks to my legs, my hair is a wreck, and I probably look like a drowned cat — but fine. Let him look.

"So," I say, my voice cracking once before I force it steady, sharp. "You like hanging out in alleys? Is this your thing? Storm-watching? Creeping? Scaring the hell out of women who just got ditched by their date?"

His eyebrows lift slightly. No words. Just that quiet, unnerving stare.

I snort, brushing a strand of wet hair from my face. "God, unbelievable. I get ghosted, almost mugged, and now I get the strong-and-silent routine from Batman's weird cousin. Seriously, could this night suck more?"

The corner of his mouth twitches. A smile. Like he's amused.

"Oh, don't you dare," I snap, jabbing a finger at him. "Don't you stand there all mysterious and smirky like you just saved me. You scared those guys off, sure, but you've been lurking here this whole time. What the hell is that about?"

He tilts his head slightly, rain dripping off his jawline. Still silent. Still watching.

I roll my eyes, though my heart's in my throat. "Great. Perfect. My date ghosts me, and the only guy who shows up is a mime. Fantastic luck, Alie. Really crushing it out here."

I start pacing a little, sandals slapping against wet pavement, my arms wrapped tight around myself. If I stop talking, the silence swallows me whole, and I can't have that. "You know what? Fine. Stay quiet. Just—stay on that side of the alley until my Uber shows up. I've had enough of men for one night. Especially the moody, broody type."

I turn back toward him, chin high, my voice sharper than my courage really feels. "And for the record? You're not my hero. So wipe that look off your face."

For the first time, he shifts a step closer. Not much. Just enough that my bravado wavers for a fraction of a second. His silence presses heavier, like he's letting me wear myself out.

And that faint smile? It doesn't go away.

———

CAINE

She spits fire at me, every word sharp enough to draw blood if I let it. Most people would flinch at the edge in her voice, the way she paces like a caged animal trying to bluff its way into freedom.

But me?

I savor it.

The way she jabs her finger in my direction, the way her chin tilts higher even though I can hear the tremor under her bravado — it's perfect. She thinks her sarcasm is armor. She thinks those sharp words can keep me at arm's length.

She has no idea that I love her like this most of all. Defiant. Angry. Raw.

I let her rant, let her pour every drop of that frustration onto me, because it means she's giving me her attention. Her focus. And she doesn't realize yet that the more she fights, the more I'm drawn in. That little spark? It's mine now.

Her Uber app pings again, the tinny sound breaking through the storm, and she jumps like a guilty child caught sneaking cookies. She's waiting for an escape, clinging to it. But the car is still minutes away, and I'm not done with her. Not tonight.

I take one step forward, slow and deliberate, just to watch her mask falter. Her bravado slips for a heartbeat — her lips part, her eyes widen. That tiny flicker of fear feeds something deep and dark inside me.

She recovers fast, glaring at me with all the venom she can muster. "Stay on your side of the alley," she throws at me, voice sharp, brittle.

I almost laugh. She thinks she's drawing boundaries. She doesn't understand she's standing in my territory.

So I let the smile curve wider on my lips — not cruel, not kind, just something for her to puzzle over. And I stay quiet. Because silence makes her fill the space with nervous chatter, and every word ties her closer to me.

Patience, I remind myself. The Uber will come, but so will another storm. And when it does, she'll look back on tonight and realize she was never alone in the dark.

Not then. Not ever.

———

ALIE

Headlights slice through the rain at the mouth of the alley. Relief floods me so fast I almost sag against the wall. My Uber. Finally.

I swipe damp bangs out of my eyes and shoulder past him, every nerve in me buzzing like live wire. He doesn't move to stop me, doesn't say a word, just watches. That smile still tugging at his lips.

It's infuriating.

So I do the only thing that feels right. I flip him the bird as I stomp toward the waiting car, sandals slapping against the puddles. "Thanks for nothing, creep," I mutter under my breath.

The driver leans across to unlock the back door. I slide in, dripping rainwater all over the seat, and slam the door behind me. The storm muffles into a dull roar, and for the first time all night I can breathe.

I risk one last glance out the window as the car pulls away. He's still standing there, shadow and leather, hand shoved in his pockets, rain plastering him to the darkness. Watching.

Always watching.

I look away, hugging my purse tight to my chest, pretending the warmth of the car means I'm safe.

⸻

CAINE

She thinks she won tonight. Cute.

The middle finger, the bite in her voice, the way she stormed into that car like she was walking off a battlefield — I'll replay it all later, frame by frame.

Her Uber taillights bleed red into the rain, fading into the distance. I stay rooted in the alley long after they vanish. Patience, I remind myself again. She's rattled, but she'll talk herself down by the time she gets home. She'll laugh it off. Pretend she wasn't scared.

But she'll think of me.

And when she slips into bed tonight, she won't know that I'll already be there, waiting.