Just as I was about to hail a cab, a desperate scream reached me from a nearby alley. Chloe’s voice.
Her cries grew weaker, more pitiful. On the phone, the police said it would take twenty minutes for them to arrive. I canceled the ride I had just ordered.
Grabbing an empty bottle from a trash pile, I crept toward the alley. Five tattooed men were tearing at Chloe’s dress.
No time to call for help—I charged in, smashing a bottle over one man’s head and pulling Chloe up to run. But before we could escape, a hand yanked me back, shoving me violently to the ground.
Four men pinned me down. Chloe bolted, screaming in terror as she fled.
“Don’t chase me! Take her! She’s the Carter heiress—you’d never get a chance with her otherwise!”
At her words, the men’s gazes turned lecherous, eyes crawling over my exposed skin with vile hunger.
“Get off me! Don’t touch me! Get away!”
Suddenly, I heard Daniel’s voice. My hope flared—I screamed for help.
But Chloe’s voice came, urging him on.
“Daniel, it’s terrifying here. Let’s just go back. I’ll never sneak out again.”
“Alright, I’ll let you off this time. Next time, you’ll get a real scolding.” Daniel’s tone was indulgent, doting.
Their footsteps drifted farther and farther away.
