CHAPTER FOUR

JASMIN

Oh God. Please save me.

I stood frozen, my heart hammering in my chest so loudly I was certain it echoed through the dark, narrow street. The cool night air did nothing to soothe the panic surging through me. My eyes darted left and right, scanning the street like a trapped animal, desperately hoping—praying—that someone, anyone, would walk by. That I’d see headlights. Hear footsteps. Anything that could mean help was near.

But the night answered only with silence.

The street outside our apartment building was shrouded in darkness. The dim light above the entrance flickered, casting long, eerie shadows, making it harder to see anyone approaching from the main road. Not that anyone ever came around this late. Not in this neighborhood. People minded their business. Even if they heard a scream, they usually just turned up the volume on their TVs or closed their blinds tighter.

Lisa was likely upstairs, as always, blasting music in her room, lost in her world like she was every night after returning from one of her dates. And our neighbors? They never cared. They didn’t when I screamed the first time Max attacked me—when I clawed and kicked and shouted until my throat was raw in the hallway outside my door.

No one came.

Only a stranger, a woman from another building two blocks away, called the police. That’s what saved me that night.

And now… now it was happening again.

The same monster. The same cold dread crawling down my spine. Max.

I backed away slowly, my hand trembling as I reached behind for the brick wall, needing something—anything—to keep me grounded. He was in front of me now, just a few feet away. Tall. Blond. Blue-eyed. Country-boy handsome. The kind that fools everyone into thinking he’s charming. Safe.

But I knew better.

Max was a predator cloaked in innocence. A walking nightmare with a smile that could kill.

“What do you want, Max?” My voice cracked, barely rising above a whisper.

He took a slow step toward me, then another, like a lion toying with a wounded prey. My knees buckled slightly, but I refused to let him see my fear. I locked my legs, clenched my jaw.

He let out a low, menacing laugh. It echoed in the empty street, raising the hairs on my arms.

“You know if you run, I’ll catch you,” he said, casual as ever, like he was talking about the weather. “And if you scream this time around…” He cocked his head, eyes gleaming. “I’ll have to bind you.”

I shivered. My mind screamed at me to run, to scream, to do anything—but my body remained frozen.

“Max,” I said again, louder this time. “What do you want?”

He laughed again. That sound. I would hear it in my nightmares for the rest of my life.

“Jass… Jass…” he murmured, using that disgusting nickname he’d given me.

I cringed.

“You, of all people, should know what I want.” His eyes dragged over me, slow and violating. “I want you.”

I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of skin exposed. My shorts. My tank top. The warm evening had made me dress lightly. Was that a mistake? Was Alex right when she told me I should dress more conservatively?

No. No amount of clothing justified this.

“You can’t possibly want me,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re insane, Max.”

His smile twisted into something grotesque. “Oh, I do. And I want to fuck you. Right now.”

My stomach turned as he reached down, grabbing himself through his jeans. “You can make it easy or hard. Either way, I’m fucking hard for you.”

Panic surged in my chest. I turned to run, but he lunged forward. His hand clamped around my waist, yanking me back. I screamed, fought, kicked—but he was stronger. Much stronger.

He shoved me hard against the wall. My head hit the brick, sending a sharp jolt of pain through my skull.

“Please! Don’t do this, Max!” I begged, tears blurring my vision. My voice trembled, raw with desperation.

“Fuck,” he growled, his lips near my ear. “Your tears just happen to turn me on.”

He buried his face in my neck, inhaling like a madman. I turned my head away in disgust, but it only gave him more access. The smell of alcohol filled my senses, though his words were disturbingly clear. He wasn’t drunk. He was lucid. He was deliberate.

I sobbed, choking on terror. He was close now—too close. His body pressed into mine, pinning me in place. There was nowhere to go. No space to breathe. No escape.

“Max, please—”

He laughed again, low and cruel, then started unbuckling his belt.

“No!” I screamed, just before his hand flew up, slapping over my mouth.

“I fucking love it when you fight,” he snarled, yanking one of my hands to the front of his jeans. “Don’t worry, it’ll be a quick fuck.”

I sobbed harder, heart crashing against my ribs. Is this how it ends? My first time—like this?

No. No, I refused. I couldn’t let it happen.

With everything I had left in me, I raised my hands to his face and dug my nails into his skin, scratching hard—deep. I felt the wetness of blood as he howled and stumbled back.

“Fucking bitch!” he shouted, his hand flying across my face, slapping me so hard my vision blurred.

“I can see you want to make this hard on yourself.” He grabbed the waistband of my shorts, yanking at the zipper.

I was barely holding it together, gasping between sobs. My eyes stung from the tears. My lungs burned. My mind screamed for help, for rescue—for a miracle.

And then… it came.

“HEY! HEY! What’re you doing? DAD! CALL THE POLICE! I think he’s trying to hurt the lady!”

The voice was high-pitched, young—and real.

Max froze.

A boy. A little boy.

He pulled away from me like he’d been burned, his hand fumbling to zip up his pants. His eyes flicked toward the direction of the voice, then back at me.

“You’re such a lucky bitch,” he spat. He grabbed my cheeks, his nails digging into my skin. “But I swear to God, Jasmin, I’ll have you. You will be mine.”

Then he was gone—vanishing down the street like the coward he truly was.

I slid down the wall, gasping for breath, trembling so hard I could barely think. I was safe. For now. But I couldn’t move. My body was still in shock.

Footsteps approached, fast and heavy, and then a man’s voice—deep, commanding. “Where is he?”

I looked up, blinking through the tears. “He ran… he ran away.”

My voice broke. The tears came harder, falling freely now, unstoppable. I didn’t care how I looked. I didn’t care about the makeup smeared across my face or the blood on my shirt.

I was alive. I was safe. And that was all that mattered.

I looked at the little boy who had saved me. He was panting, his cheeks red, eyes wide but filled with bravery. He couldn’t have been older than eight.

I bent down and kissed his forehead, my gratitude overflowing. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re very welcome, Miss,” he said, grinning. “I’m always happy to help.”

“My name is Jack,” he continued proudly. “And this is my dad, Ryan Smith.”

I looked up at the man—Jack’s father. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with kind brown eyes and a strong jawline. Handsome, in a quiet, grounding kind of way. The type of man who looked like he could be trusted. Like he’d never let anyone hurt someone the way I’d just been hurt.

“Thank you, Mr. Smith,” I said, offering my hand. “I’m Jasmin. It’s… nice to meet you.”

Ryan took my hand gently, but Jack beat him to it, clasping my fingers in his small ones before his dad could. It made me laugh—a genuine laugh I didn’t know I was still capable of.

“You’re welcome,” Ryan said. “But please, call me Ryan. Mr. Smith makes me feel ancient.”

Despite everything, I smiled. “You’re not ancient. You’re just… tall.”

He chuckled. “We’re not from around here. Just passing by to check on someone.”

“Well, I’m glad you were at the right place at the right time.” I exhaled shakily. “At least for me.”

“You’re so beautiful,” Jack said suddenly, his voice full of childlike awe.

Both Ryan and I laughed, the tension lifting just enough for the moment to feel real.

I bent down again, ruffling Jack’s hair. “Thank you, sweet boy. You’re very handsome too.”

I didn’t know what the night would bring after this. I didn’t know how I’d go inside and feel safe again. But in this moment—between the laughter, the kindness of a stranger, and the bravery of a child—I felt something return to me.

Hope.