Narrow escape

Gina's POV:

The haggard man threw a punch, and he blocked it with his suitcase, hiding his face behind it. The case cracked, and the man groaned.

“You!” he snarled, lunging forward to attack again.

He slammed the bag into the man's face, and the haggard man crumpled to the ground. In an instant, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me away from them. We fled on our heels, as fast as our legs could carry us.

Kaint and his men chased after us, close on our trail. He headed into the garage, and I galloped behind him, his grip tight on my wrist.

He pulled a car key from his pocket and pressed it. An SUV chimed, the sound echoing through the garage. We ran to it, and he wrenched the door open.

“Get in,” he ordered, and I obeyed blindly, climbing into the back seat.

I didn’t know who he was or what his plan was, but I felt nothing could be more cruel than returning to that chaotic family.

He got in too, started the car, reversed out of the parking spot, and sped off.

They kept chasing the car closely until we left the garage and hit the road at high speed.

I looked back through the rear windshield and saw Kaint kicking the ground in frustration under the glare of a streetlight. His angry shadow loomed, monstrous and furious. He stood with his hands on his hips.

He ran a hand over his hair vigorously, burying his head. I knew exactly what he was feeling. I pitied him for a second, then remembered I needed to pity myself more.

I looked back at the man driving the car, cleared my throat, and asked, “Who are you, please?”

“You haven’t even thanked me for saving you yet,” he chuckled, glancing at me through the rearview mirror.

“I don’t even know what you’re up to,” I said, looking out the window, then added silently, How can I even be sure that I’m safe?

“You surely are,” he said, looking back. “Those are bad guys, right?” he asked with a smile, returning his focus back to the road. “I can tell right away.”

I felt a bit relieved. I couldn’t think of anyone in my life who would do this. Either he was a kind passerby, or the whole situation was far more complicated than I thought.

“Would you like to go to my home or a hotel? I can tell you need refuge more than anything right now,” he said, his gaze fixed on the road, his tone more serious this time.

I honestly knew a hotel wouldn’t work. They already knew I was in Sunshine City. All public places were likely on notice.

I blinked and cleared my throat again; something felt lodged in my oesophagus. “Will I be safe at your home?”

“Sure,” he said lightly, as if that was all the reassurance I needed.

“And how do you know me?” I stammered. “Who told you something was going on back there?”

His eyes widened. I could see it in the rearview mirror.

“You ask too many questions,” he said with a smile. “It’s not good for you.”

“What?”

“I understand you have the right to ask, but…” he started.

I interrupted impatiently, “But what? Just tell me.”

He smacked his lips and pressed the brake, pulling over to the side of the road.

“You’ve had a long day already.” He looked back at me. His face was quite alluring. My eyes widened, and I quickly snapped out of it. “Haven’t you?”

I nodded involuntarily—It was the best I could do.

“All you have to do is rest and trust me.” He faced forward and started the car again. “I just risked my life to save you,” he murmured, but I heard him.

His words still didn’t completely move me. But I had to comply. He was right about one thing: he had risked his life for me.

I just couldn’t shake the unanswered questions. Who was he? Why did he save me? How were we connected?

I fastened my seatbelt and lay back against the seat, sighing heavily.

He didn’t speak. The car hummed beneath us, steady and warm.

I raised my head slightly, then let it fall back against the headrest, staring at the car roof until my vision blurred. The city lights slid across the ceiling in slow, rhythmic pulses.

“Want some water.” He paused the car again.

“Sure. That’ll be better.”

“Lemme go get some.” He got off the car.

Then my head started some calculations; Jax could be really cunning.

I should just runaway or something.

I looked at him talking to the store owner by the road side.

The transition is abrupt. Consider adding a beat of internal hesitation:

I should just run away. Now. Before he comes back.

I looked at him talking to the store owner by the roadside. He was relaxed, at ease. Not watching the car. Not watching me.

Still occupied.

I opened the door slowly, avoiding suspicion.

I retightened the cap, and buried my face to the ground.

Being alone is better than with some mercenaries.