CHAPTER 2 – Midnight Isn’t Safe

The city looked different at midnight.

Los Angeles lost its glamour once the crowds thinned, the neon signs buzzing too loudly in the quiet.

Lena walked without direction, the hem of her dress brushing against her knees with every step.

Her heels dangled from her fingers, the broken strap cutting slightly into her skin.

She barely noticed.

Her phone screen was black.

She pressed the power button again, harder this time, like force might bring it back to life.

Nothing.

The reflection staring back at her from the glass was warped and unfamiliar.

She slipped the phone into her clutch as if hiding it would hurt less.

Her feet began to ache, sharp and insistent.

The sidewalk was rough, tiny stones biting into her soles.

She slowed, then stopped, bending slightly to rub one foot against the other.

A laugh drifted from somewhere behind her, distant but loud enough to make her shoulders tense.

She straightened and kept walking.

The streets smelled like damp concrete and stale alcohol.

A trash bag split open near the curb, spilling something sticky that glistened under a streetlight.

She avoided it instinctively, stepping closer to the road.

A car passed, music thumping, the bass vibrating through her ribs.

She flinched as it disappeared.

Her mind refused to stay quiet.

Images replayed without her permission—Evan’s face, Camille’s lipstick, the marble sink.

She squeezed her eyes shut as she walked, then opened them quickly, afraid of tripping.

Her chest felt too tight, like the air had thickened.

She focused on breathing, counting steps instead.

You should’ve worn the black one, Evan’s voice echoed in her head.

That dress draws attention.

She swallowed, her fingers curling tighter around her heels.

She remembered changing outfits twice because he’d frowned.

She remembered thinking it was normal.

A breeze lifted the edge of her hair, cool against her flushed skin.

She hugged her arms around herself, suddenly aware of how exposed she was.

Her dress, once perfect under ballroom lights, felt flimsy now.

She scanned the street for an open café, a lit window, anything.

Everything was closed.

She stopped at an intersection, staring at the blinking pedestrian sign.

The red hand glowed steadily, counting down numbers she didn’t care about.

She didn’t know which direction to take.

Home felt too far.

Anywhere felt too far.

Her phone buzzed in her clutch.

She froze, heart jumping before she remembered.

Dead phone.

Nothing buzzed again.

She laughed under her breath, the sound brittle.

Her laugh echoed strangely, swallowed by the empty street.

She wondered if she’d imagined the vibration.

Her fingers trembled as she pulled the phone out again.

The screen stayed dark.

“Of course,” she murmured.

The word vanished into the night.

She slipped the phone back and started walking again, faster this time.

Her steps slapped against the pavement, uneven and hurried.

She didn’t look behind her.

A voice cut through the quiet.

Male.

Too loud for the hour.

She stiffened but kept moving.

Her shoulders drew up instinctively, chin lowering as if that could make her smaller.

Another voice joined the first, then laughter.

It sounded closer now.

Her pace quickened.

Her feet protested, sharp pain shooting up her calves.

She ignored it, focusing on the rhythm of her steps.

The echo of footsteps followed, out of sync with hers.

Her stomach dropped.

She told herself not to panic.

People walked at night all the time.

Los Angeles never really slept.

She repeated the thought like a mantra.

It didn’t help.

“Hey,” someone called.

The word stretched lazily, confident.

Lena’s breath hitched.

She didn’t respond.

She turned a corner abruptly, heart pounding.

The street was narrower here, lined with parked cars and darkened storefronts.

A flickering streetlight cast uneven shadows across the sidewalk.

She counted doors as she passed them.

None were open.

Her mind betrayed her again.

Where are you going dressed like that? Evan had asked once, half-joking.

Men stare.

She’d laughed it off, promised she’d change.

Now the memory made her throat burn.

Another laugh echoed, closer than before.

She heard footsteps clearly now, four distinct rhythms.

Too many.

Her fingers slipped on the smooth soles of her heels as she tightened her grip.

She fought the urge to run.

“Sweetheart,” a voice drawled.

She recognized the sound of a whistle, sharp and piercing.

“Hey, sweetheart. You lost?”

Her pulse roared in her ears.

She shook her head once, quickly, though they couldn’t see her face clearly.

She kept walking, eyes fixed ahead.

Her legs felt heavy, like they were wading through water.

She begged them silently to move faster.

“Don’t be rude,” another voice chimed in.

There was amusement there, edged with something darker.

Lena’s chest tightened painfully.

She veered closer to the street, nearly brushing a side mirror.

Her bare foot scraped against the curb.

She stumbled.

Only for a second, but it was enough.

Laughter erupted behind her, louder now, closer.

Her breath came in short gasps, each one burning.

She glanced back despite herself.

Four men.

Shadows stretched across their faces, but their smiles caught the light.

They walked casually, unhurried, like they had nowhere else to be.

Her stomach twisted violently.

She looked ahead again, scanning desperately.

No cars.

No people.

No escape.

Her mind screamed at her to run.

Her body hesitated, calculating the pain, the risk.

Her feet were already blistered.

She wouldn’t get far.

“You okay there?” one of them called.

Concern laced his tone too neatly.

She shook her head again, this time more forcefully.

Her throat felt too tight to speak.

Her hands were slick with sweat.

She reached a crosswalk and stepped onto the street without waiting.

The red hand still glowed, defiant.

A horn blared somewhere far away, but no car appeared.

She crossed anyway, heart hammering.

The men followed.

Her chest burned now, each breath scraping.

Tears blurred her vision, but she refused to let them fall.

She wouldn’t cry.

Not now.

Not in front of them.

“Slow down,” another man said, amused.

“We’re just talking.”

His footsteps quickened slightly.

Lena’s pulse spiked.

Her nails dug into her palms.

She thought of Evan again, unbidden.

You worry too much.

Nothing’s going to happen.

The memory made her chest ache in a different way.

She’d believed him.

Her heel slipped from her fingers and clattered onto the pavement.

The sound was deafening.

She didn’t stop to pick it up.

She let it go and broke into a run.

Pain exploded through her feet instantly.

She cried out despite herself, the sound tearing free.

Her dress tangled around her legs as she sprinted blindly forward.

Laughter erupted behind her, louder, sharper.

They were running now too.

Her lungs burned.

Her vision tunneled.

She spotted a side street and veered toward it, desperate.

The alley was darker, narrower.

She didn’t think, just moved.

Footsteps pounded behind her.

A hand brushed the air near her arm.

She screamed, the sound ripping through the night.

Her throat hurt instantly.

Fear flooded every inch of her.

Then light cut across the pavement.

Headlights flared suddenly, blinding.

An engine purred low and controlled.

A black luxury sedan rolled to a stop beside her, silent and imposing.

The street seemed to hold its breath.

Lena stumbled to a halt, chest heaving.

The men slowed behind her, hesitation creeping into their steps.

The driver’s door opened.

A man stepped out, tall and calm, his presence shifting the air.

And the night went very, very still.