Chapter 1: Stalked on a Stormy Night

A dark, windy night—a perfect time for trouble and bad decisions. You ever get that prickly feeling, like the universe is winking and daring you to step out? Well, that was me—right there, under a sky that looked ready to crack open.

The city felt restless, like it was holding its breath. Wind howled down the empty avenues, trash cans rattling like loose shopping carts in an alley. Streetlights flickered, casting twitchy shadows over cracked sidewalks. If you listened close, you could almost hear the city whispering: go ahead, make a mistake. Trouble was prowling, and I was walking right into its jaws.

Tonight I was being followed on my way home from the late shift at the hospital. I’m a young woman, living alone in the city. Not that it mattered to the guy behind me.

My sneakers slapped against the pavement—sharp, hollow, echoing off the brick walls. Every step, I could feel eyes boring into my back. I kept telling myself: Don’t look back. Just keep moving. But the hairs on my neck prickled anyway. My apartment was only a few blocks away, but every inch of sidewalk stretched out, like the city was daring me to pass its test.

A greasy-looking guy in a black hoodie grinned at me under the flickering streetlamp, his teeth stained and nasty. Gross.

He leaned against the pole, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shifting his weight like he ran the whole block. The way he smiled—you’d think he was auditioning for a mugshot. I could smell the cheap liquor on his breath even from halfway across the street. My skin crawled, my mouth went dry, and it felt like every sound in the world was suddenly too loud. But I kept my face blank, refusing to let him see an ounce of fear.

If this had happened before, I probably would’ve screamed, run, and called 911—the usual freak-out.

I remembered the drill from those campus safety seminars: yell, make noise, run toward the light. But the truth is? In the middle of the night, sometimes the only person who hears you is yourself. My phone felt like a brick in my hand—too heavy to dial. I was tired of being scared, tired of feeling small. Tired. Just tired.

But hey—I’m not the same girl I was yesterday.

I squared my shoulders, feeling this weird, reckless energy bubble up in my chest, like I’d just downed three Red Bulls. Something inside me snapped, sharp and clear—I wasn’t just another scared woman tonight. I was done playing the victim.

Yesterday... I hadn’t seen that self-defense TikTok yet. Modern problems, modern solutions.

Bless that influencer with the purple hair and glitter nails. She’d shown moves I’d never even thought about. In my head, her voice echoed—italicized and bold: _"Don’t wait for trouble to find you. Be the trouble."_ I grinned, adrenaline fizzing up, making me bold in a way I’d never felt before.

“Uh ah...” I heard myself mutter—a warning, a challenge, or maybe just a primal sound. (It was me, by the way.)

I hurled my purse aside, crouched, and charged at the guy, hands and feet flying. Under the old, buzzing streetlights, after three nights of overtime, I must’ve looked like something out of a horror movie. Honestly, I probably looked insane.

My scrubs flapped. Hair wild. Eyes burning. I let out a guttural sound I didn’t even know I could make. My body moved on pure, exhausted instinct—too much caffeine, not enough sleep. If he thought I was an easy target, he was about to get the show of his life.

“Ah... hahaha... you can actually see me...” The guy’s voice broke, a weird, shaky laugh—his bravado slipping into something almost scared.

I forced my voice low and raspy, twisted my face into a wild snarl. The guy froze. As I lunged closer—my mind raced: What now? What now?

I let my lips curl back like a rabid raccoon, eyes wide—_channeling every horror flick I’d ever watched at sleepovers_. The guy’s confidence crumbled, his shoulders hunched, feet shuffling backward. For a split second, I saw real terror flicker in his eyes. Now _that_ was new.

With a thud—

He dropped like a sack of potatoes, smacking the pavement with a heavy, embarrassing splat. My heart hammered, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts. I couldn’t help but gawk. Did I really just do that?

Damn, he passed out from sheer terror.

I nudged him with my sneaker, just to be sure. He was out cold, hoodie bunched up around his chin. The wind whipped my hair into my face, and I started to laugh—half from relief, half from disbelief. Somewhere, my purse was probably getting soaked in gutter water, but honestly? Worth it.

“Officer, my mental health is ruined! She should have to pay for my trauma!”

The guy wrapped his hoodie tight around him, sniveling and whining to the cops. The sight was almost comical—pathetic, really.

He looked like a kid tattling to the teacher, voice cracking with outrage. For a second, he puffed up, then deflated, all his swagger gone. The cops looked at him like he was a lost puppy that just peed on the rug.

Dumbfounded by his nerve, I immediately grabbed the nearest young officer—clinging like he was my last hope.

I reached out, grabbing his sleeve like a lifeline. My hands shook, but I made sure my voice trembled just enough for sympathy. If anyone was getting comfort tonight, it was going to be me.

“Officer, this was self-defense! Plus, I’m just out of med school, single for twenty-four years and never even— I was really scared. If I hadn’t done that, who knows what would’ve happened...” I started to sob, the words tumbling out in a messy rush.

My real tears and snot got all over his uniform. He didn’t flinch—just gently patted my back, trying to calm me down.

His hand was warm and steady, moving in slow circles. I buried my face deeper, letting the tears come. He smelled like aftershave and laundry detergent—a comforting, everyday kind of scent. For a second, I forgot about the creep and just let myself fall apart, soaking in the comfort.

A tissue appeared in front of me. I looked up and met a gentle, jaw-droppingly handsome face. For a heartbeat, I forgot what I was even crying about.

He had the kind of blue eyes you only see in old movies—soulful, sharp, and impossible to ignore. His jaw was clean-shaven, hair military neat. He knelt beside me, the city’s chaos fading into the background. I blinked, wondering if the universe was finally throwing me a bone.

“Damn, he’s gorgeous...” I thought, the words echoing in my brain, stunned and shameless.

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’d heard me. My cheeks went nuclear, but exhaustion won out over embarrassment. If I was going to make a fool of myself, now was the time.

No wonder people say all the good-looking ones end up in uniform. That face, those shoulders, that calm, steady vibe... How is anyone supposed to resist?

He looked like he belonged in a recruitment poster—or one of those firefighter calendars. My mind scrambled, trying to keep up. I was a total mess, and he was... well, not.

Maybe thinking I was in shock, the officer waved his hand in front of my face. His fingers flicked back and forth, his voice gentle but firm. “Ma’am?”

“Ah... oh, I... I was just really scared...” I stammered, voice cracking. My face burned, so I ducked my head, letting my hair fall like a curtain. If I could’ve melted into his shirt, I would have.

Guiltily, I buried my face deeper in his chest. If you don’t take advantage of a good thing, you’re a fool. Guess this is what twenty-four years of single gets you.

His heartbeat was steady under my ear, grounding me. I let myself cling, telling myself it was just the shock talking. But deep down, I knew I was milking it for all it was worth. And honestly? No regrets.

“Officer, I—” My voice barely made it out before—

“Knock it off!”

The guy’s angry shout made me jump. My whole body jolted, nerves rattling. The officer patted my back but didn’t let up on the other guy, his demeanor flipping from gentle to steel in a heartbeat.

His voice turned icy, all trace of gentleness gone. “You creep, you want compensation? Out here stalking women at night instead of minding your own business—do you even hear yourself? You’re going to jail, not getting paid.”

His badge glinted under the streetlight, and for a second, I felt completely safe. I breathed in, chest finally loosening.