Chapter 11: The Stranger in the Dark

“I say let me go!” Celine screamed, twisting her wrists with every ounce of strength she had left.

But the more she fought, the tighter their grip became, like angry lions pouncing on a helpless prey.

One yanked off her worn-out coat, another snatched the old cloth she had tied around her neck to shield herself from the night cold. They didn’t speak a word.

Instead, they moved in silent gestures, their eyes exchanging signals, their hands working with eerie precision.

For a fleeting moment, as she struggled in their grasp, Celine wondered if they were deaf and dumb. The silence of it all chilled her more than their touch.

Two of them pinned her hands cruelly, pressing them backward, while the other two tugged at her gown, their fingers fumbling, desperate, violent.

Her chest heaved as dread sank deep into her bones.

Celine knew what they wanted. The thought of it made her stomach churn. Rape. The terror in her eyes blurred her vision.

She bit her lips hard, trying to hold in her sobs, but her voice broke into a whispered prayer.

“God, please… please save me.”

Her strength was failing. Her knees buckled. The last thread of hope she held onto threatened to snap.

Just as one of the men gripped the edge of her gown, ready to tear it open, a voice thundered through the night.

“Hei!”

It was baritone, sharp, venomous, like a sword slicing through darkness. “Get your filthy hands off that lady now or you live never to use them again!”

The men froze.

Celine’s head jerked up, her eyes wide.

While one still held her down, the other three turned, moving toward the direction of the voice.

Out of the shadows, a tall figure advanced, steady and fearless.

“Get lost, man. Mind your business,” one of them barked, his voice gruff.

Celine’s mouth parted in disbelief. So they could speak? she thought.

The silent gestures had fooled her; she had believed them incapable of speech. The realization twisted her stomach tighter with fear.

But the stranger kept coming.

The three attackers lunged. Their fists swung, their bodies charged, but within seconds they were on the ground. The stranger’s movements were swift and brutal.

Each blow landed with terrifying accuracy. One tried to crawl away, but the stranger caught his arm, twisting it until a sickening crack pierced the air.

The others screamed as their right hands were seized, each bone broken without mercy.

“I warned you to let the lady go,” the intruder said coldly. His voice rumbled with a finality that made the air itself tremble.

The last man - the one still clutching Celine, shivered uncontrollably. His eyes bulged, unable to believe what had just unfolded before him.

When the stranger stepped closer, the man’s grip loosened. In an instant, he released her and bolted into the darkness, his footsteps stumbling in panic.

Celine staggered back, clutching the torn fabric of her gown to her chest. Her body shook violently.

Her lips moved before she even realized what she was saying.

“I… I have some cash in my bag. You can take it… all of it. Please, just let me go.” Her breathing came in gasps, her eyes locked on the towering figure.

The man stopped, raising both hands in surrender.

His tone softened. “I’m not here to hurt you. I came to save you. I was passing through and heard your voice, begging those men. I couldn’t walk away.”

He bent, picked up her scattered clothes from the dirt, and handed them to her.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking, tears glistening in her eyes. She clutched the fabric tightly, still trembling.

The man gave a curt nod. “I’m Bashiru, by the way. Detective Bashiru Adebayo.”

Her eyes widened, disbelief spreading across her face. “You’re a cop?”

“Not exactly,” he replied with a faint smirk. “I work independently as a private detective.”

Celine’s heart fluttered uneasily. The last man who had shown her kindness, Malik, had betrayed her with lust. Trust had become a wound in her chest that refused to heal.

And yet, this Bashiru stood differently, his presence firm, his words carrying no hidden hunger.

But fear still whispered in her ears, reminding her of past scars.

“Let me take you to my place,” Bashiru suggested calmly. “It’s safer. You can pass the night there, and by morning we’ll figure out what’s next.”

Celine shook her head quickly, her grip tightening on her gown.

The memory of Malik’s shadow at her bedside still burned in her mind. “No,” she whispered firmly. “I… I can’t.”

He studied her for a moment, then nodded, as though understanding the fear behind her refusal. “Alright then. A hotel. Somewhere safe.”

They walked together under the streetlights, her pace slow and unsteady, his tall frame shielding her from the shadows. Soon, the glowing sign of SkyRock Hotel loomed ahead.

The sight of it made Celine hesitate, her steps faltering.

“What’s wrong?” Bashiru asked.

She bit her lip, her voice barely audible. “I was here about an hour ago. They rejected me. Threw me out.”

Bashiru’s jaw tightened. “Rejected you? Why?”

“Maybe they thought I couldn’t afford it,” she replied bitterly. Her eyes stung as the memory of laughter and mockery replayed.

Bashiru’s nostrils flared. Anger simmered in his gaze. “Unbelievable. Come on.”

Her heart raced as he led her back through the grand doors, her legs weak with dread.

She braced herself, terrified of facing another round of humiliation.

But with Bashiru by her side, towering and unflinching, she felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.