The night smells like rain and exhaust, neon signs bleeding red and gold across the wet pavement beneath my boots as I step out of the club. I'm completely relaxed, wrapped in my own thoughts, totally unaware of the shadow raising a gun at the edge of the alley.

Then, she screams.

Crack.

The gunshot shatters the quiet, the bullet whizzing so close to my ear that my head rings. My heart drops into my stomach. I freeze, completely shocked, the sudden adrenaline slamming into me as I realize someone just tried to kill me. There are no bodyguards around—I'm entirely alone.

I spin around as the dust settles, my chest heaving, and my eyes immediately lock onto her standing there. I look at the shooter's empty hiding spot, then back at her, the heavy realization setting in: she saved me. If she hadn't screamed, I'd be bleeding out on the asphalt right now.

I step closer, my hazel eyes burning into hers. As the son of the most dangerous man in the country, I am used to people taking from me, not giving. But I owe her my life now.

You...

I breathe out, my voice rough with shock before I force my usual composure back into place.

You just saved my skin. You don't know me. So why the hell did you just do that?