1

ARIA

"Aria, sweetheart. Are you sure you're going to be okay?" my co-worker asked, a frown on her face.

I stopped myself from showing any signs of annoyance. Gertrude was a sweet old lady, worried about my safety but every single night I was bombarded with her many concerned questions.

"Yes, I'll be okay," I replied, throwing my backpack over my shoulder and reassuring her with a soft smile.

The greying lady deepened her frown. "You're a young beautiful woman, you shouldn't be walking alone late at night. Men are naughty," she emphasised, making her point by throwing her cloth down on the counter quite dramatically. My smile broadened, warmed by her motherly actions.

"I hate to say this but I'm used to it by now. I'll see you tomorrow." I placed my hand on hers for a quick second, easing her worries by giving it a gentle squeeze. "Goodnight."

She sighed, slumping her shoulders. "Goodnight."

Turning my back to her, I heard her mumbling in German and something along the lines of 'Stubborn child'

Stepping out of the warm diner and into the crispy cold air, a shiver trailed down my spine. It was freezing out and I mentally scolded myself for not carrying a warm jumper with me.

My uniform consisted of the usual mustard yellow work dress and a pair of white sneakers. It did little to shield me from the blistering cold and I frowned at my carelessness. Deciding to hurry up my pace, I side stepped a puddle on the pavement and began my journey home.

Fortunately and unfortunately, it was a Friday night.

Thus resulting in the streets occupied by a dozens of people waiting to enter the illuminated club opposite the diner. I felt a lot safer when the streets were busy but there was nothing worse than accidentally stumbling into a drunk person. Usually they were fuelled by their alcohol courage and loved picking fights for no reason.

I walked in the direction of my apartment, dodging left and right to avoid shoulder bumping into anyone.

Finally managing to escape the crowd, I breathed out a sigh of relief. I slowed down when the soles of my feet began to ache, a reminder that I had spent the entire day on them.

It was in that moment when the wind began to pick up, whistling between the tall buildings and rattling the shatters. Unnecessarily creepy.

"Daniel, do you understand?" A voice spoke calmly through the contrary wind. A voice with an accent not too difficult to decipher. Italian. My pace decreased, consumed by curiosity and pure nosiness.

It was coming from within an alleyway, abandoned and dark.

Surely that was how every slasher film starts.

I passed by that alley far too many times, even becoming familiar with the homeless man residing beneath a sheet attached to a dumpster.

"Hey, hey, eyes on me. Where is it?" the same voice spoke, still holding that eerie calmness. However, despite how good it sounded, it also had warning lights flashing in my head. Deciding that it would be best for me to head on home, I started walking again.

A man sobbed, "Marco was supposed to deliver it. I don't know where it is. I swear."

Nah, fuck that.

I kept my eyes downwards, avoiding looking up as I quickly passed the alley. Whatever the fuck was happening, I wanted no part in it. But of course with my terrible luck and Murphy's Law, a loud gunshot went off.

I gasped, nearly stumbling over my own feet as my heart hammered in my chest. I was startled, my first instinct to snap my head into the direction of the noise.

My biggest mistake.

A tall man was holding a silver gun, dressed in a suit and standing over someone who was kneeling and shivering in distress. Sweat and blood coated his skin, his eyes clenched tightly shut as he mumbled to himself.

Oh God, that's fucked up. I just want to go home.

But the one with the gun, was already looking at me. I felt my heart drop straight to my ass.

I was frozen, just for a split second before I started running. Not today. Not fucking today.

"You have twenty four hours, Daniel. Don't do anything stupid. Go," the man spoke, but he sounded hurried before footsteps could be heard rushing away. If this fucker follows me...I swear I will do nothing about it because I'll probably be dead.

A car slowly approached, overloaded by boys sticking their entire upper halves out of the windows. With red cups in their hands, they drank as trap music blared from their speakers.

I contemplated on whether I should get their attention. Rowdy boys or man with gun? Neither seemed like a good option but running was definitely on the list.

Hoisting my backpack onto my shoulder, I rounded a corner and entered a street that led away from my apartment. The bus stop wasn't too far from there, and it seemed like the best idea to get on a bus.

The wind threw my curls around, whipping around my face and getting caught between my lips. I slowed down when my chest started to burn. I ran for five seconds and it felt like my lungs were about to collapse. I nearly laughed at myself. A killer could be chasing me and my lungs will kill before they do.

I looked behind me, seeing nothing but a dark street and a stray cat.

"Fuck," I wheezed mixed with a sigh of relief. "Fuck," I repeated again, just because it felt appropriate to do so. Fuck. That was way too close.

"Fuck," a voice not belonging to me said.

I shrieked like a banshee.

A hand wrapped around my arm, covered in tattoos and scars and rings.

My eyes widened, another scream building up before I was pulled into an alley. When my back pressed against a wall and the brick dug into my clothed skin, I was convinced that that it was the end. That was how I was going to die.

Death by bullet wound to the forehead. Or perhaps death by heart attack. Either way, I was going to die.

A gloved hand wrapped around my mouth, so big that it covered the entire lower half of my face.

"Don't scream," the man instructed, voice accented and deep. I nodded quickly, keeping my eyes closed so I wouldn't see how he looked.

"Good. I'm going to let go but if you make a sound." Then I felt a cold metallic tip against my neck, pressing harshly into the skin. The man was holding a gun to my flesh and the warning was loud and clear.

I nodded again, wincing, not because it hurt but because it was a fucking gun and I was beyond scared.

"Open your eyes." His voice was softer, tenderer and I would've found comfort in it if he wasn't literally threatening me.

Why didn't I just walk the other way? Or get the frat boys attention?

"Open your eyes," he repeated, making a point by applying pressure to the gun.

Finally doing as I was told, my eyes fluttered open. I don't know what I was expecting, but it definitely was not the handsome fuck of a face right in front of me.

His eyes, a green so dark it almost appeared brown underneath the dim street light. He was looking at me, an unreadable expression on his face as his brows furrowed. That's when I noticed the scar through his left eyebrow. He also had a dimple, making its appearance when he moved his lips. Was it possible for someone to be deadly beautiful?

"It's rude to eavesdrop," his voice was deep, blanketed by a prominent accent.

"I wasn't," I argued. "I promise." I don't know why I added that. As if my words had any leverage in the situation. If he wanted to pop my head off my shoulders, he was going to do it regardless of what I had to say.

"Yeah?" He asked, finally removing the gun from my neck. I breathed out a sigh of relief. However, the relief was very short-lived.

As soon as I turned my head to look down the street, he had my cheeks in his grip. Four fingers on one side, his thumb on the other. My eyes widened, damn near shaking in my sneakers as he made me look up at him. Fuck.

"Why are you walking alone? Do you have any idea what time it is? " he asked roughly, a frown on his face.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat, "a car is a luxury."

His scowl deepened, apparently not pleased with my response.

A few seconds went by. He seemed to be studying my face, casting his eyes down to my lips and then grazing over my collarbones.

"Aria. That's pretty." He read the name off my nametag, the corner of his lips tilting up into a small smirk. Did he just compliment me? The man finally let go of me, taking a small step back. I watched him carefully, eyeing the gun on his side. My heart was still pounding absurdly hard, threatening to beat out of my chest.

I nearly jumped when he bent down to pick up my backpack that had fallen.

He handed it to me, and I apprehensively took it from him. With a nod of his head, he gestured that I was finally free to go. Thank fuck.

I scrambled away, hoping and praying that he wouldn't follow me. I shouldn't have looked back, heaven knows why but I did. I caught his eyes on me, holding a phone to his ear. Taking a deep breath in, ignoring the burn in my lungs, I quickened my stride and made my way to the bus stop.

Reaching my apartment in record time, I slammed the door shut before slumping my weight against it. That was beyond terrifying.

I probably should have listened to Gertrude.