Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Mabel's Point of View

For a second, I couldn't move. I was in disbelief.

I stared at the empty space where the man had disappeared, my mind struggling to catch up with what had just happened. Then I caught sight of my bag swinging from his hand as he pushed through the crowd, and the realization hit me so hard that I forgot everything else.

“Hey!”

My feet moved before I could think. I ran after him, dodging people and nearly stumbling over the uneven pavement as I tried to close the distance between us. My heart hammered against my ribs, and my breaths grew increasingly shallow as I forced my legs to move faster.

I didn't care that strangers were turning to look at me or that my clothes were becoming uncomfortable. My entire life was in that bag, and I wasn't about to let some random thief walk away with what little I had left.

“Stop! I'm talking to you!”

He didn't even look back. His only priority at the moment was getting the bag as far away from me as possible.

I pushed myself harder, ignoring the sharp ache spreading across my side.

The man was fast, and the more I tried to catch up, the more the distance between us seemed to grow.

People moved between us, forcing me to change direction repeatedly, and I nearly collided with a woman carrying shopping bags as I tried to keep him in sight.

“Watch where you're going!” she snapped.

“Sorry!” I threw over my shoulder without slowing down.

For a brief moment, I caught sight of the thief again. He was pushing through a group of pedestrians, my bag swinging carelessly from his hand as though it contained nothing more valuable than a few old clothes.

Rage surged through me, giving me enough strength to keep running despite the growing discomfort in my stomach.

Then he disappeared behind a group of people crossing the street.

I kept going, hoping I'd somehow manage to spot him again, but the crowd swallowed him completely. My breathing had become painfully uneven, and my legs were beginning to feel heavy. I tried to push through it, taking another few hurried steps before a sharp, twisting sensation gripped my stomach.

I stumbled to a stop and grabbed my abdomen.

A horrible wave of nausea rolled through me, making my mouth fill with saliva. I bent forward, bracing one hand against my knee while squeezing my eyes shut.

My stomach churned violently, and for a moment, I genuinely thought I might throw up right there on the pavement.

Not now.

Please, not now.

I tried to breathe through it, but the world seemed to tilt around me. I remained bent over for several seconds, waiting for the sickness to pass, before slowly straightening and looking around for the thief.

He was gone.

Completely gone.

I stood there, my chest rising and falling heavily, staring at the crowd as though the man might suddenly emerge from somewhere with my bag in his hand.

People continued walking past me without a second glance.

A woman brushed against my shoulder, muttered an apology and continued on her way, while two men nearby remained engrossed in whatever they were discussing on their phones. Nobody cared that I'd just lost the only belongings I had left.

A tear slipped down my cheek, and I quickly wiped it away.

I couldn't afford to cry.

Not here, and not now.

I'd already cried enough over a man who hadn't deserved a single one of my tears, and I wasn't about to waste more on a stranger who had probably stolen my bag to make a quick buck.

Still, my fingers curled into fists as I stared at the pavement, fighting the humiliating urge to break down in the middle of the street.

It was almost laughable how quickly everything could go wrong when life decided to make a joke out of you.

For years, I'd believed that no matter how bad things became, I'd always have somewhere to go. There would always be a spare room, a familiar bed, a phone number I could call or someone waiting for me somewhere. Even when things weren't perfect, I'd never imagined a day when I'd find myself standing on the side of a road with nowhere to go and no idea what to do next.

Yet here I was. Fucking helpless.

I wrapped my arms around myself and lowered my head, trying to gather my thoughts.

I still had my phone, thank goodness, but that was practically all I had.

The gold had been in the bag, along with the few personal belongings.

I could call someone, perhaps, but who?

I couldn't bring myself to explain what had happened, and I certainly wasn't ready to hear anyone tell me they had warned me about Dexter.

I was still trying to figure out my next move when I heard the low hum of an engine approaching.

A black luxury car slowed beside me.

I barely glanced at it, assuming the driver was looking for an address. I stepped farther onto the pavement and rubbed the back of my hand across my damp cheek, hoping I didn't look as miserable as I felt.

The passenger window lowered, and a familiar voice called my name.

“Mabel?”

My entire body stiffened.

I knew that voice. I swear, I recognized it from somewhere.

Slowly, I lifted my head, and my eyes met a familiar pair staring back at me from inside the car.

Zyran Perez.

For a moment, neither of us said anything. I couldn't understand why he was here or why seeing him at that exact moment made my already chaotic heart beat even faster.

His gaze moved over me, taking in my disheveled appearance, the tears I hadn't managed to wipe away and the way I was standing as though my legs might give out at any moment.

His brows drew together slightly as he studied my face with so much interest.

“What happened?”