#Chapter 57: Unwanted Attention


    The city’s nocturnal pulse is like a second heartbeat, aforting undercurrent as I make my way


    toward the subway.


    Tonight was something else. A blend of euphoria, sprinkled with an indescribable tension—thanks to


    Karl’s abrupt departure.


    I’m not sure why he left, or really even when he left. All I know is that one moment he was there, and


    the next he was gone. And he didn’te back.


    Text property ? N?vel(D)ra/ma.Org.


    Did someone say something? Did something happen? Was it the picture fiasco?


    My mind wanders back to Chloe and the palpable tension between the two of them. I know that Chloe


    dislikes him, and for good reason, but I think he’s been trying to change. I just wish that she could see


    that.


    “God, what am I thinking?” I whisper to myself, shaking my head. Standing up for Karl? For the man


    who divorced me, who forced me to dress modestly, who convinced me to dye my hair for his own


    pleasure? I should be siding with Chloe, not him.


    And yet, I still can’t help but feel a slight twinge of regret as I think about the empty space where he


    once stood tonight, calmly sipping his drink.


    I board the train, reveling in the almost-empty car. After the whirlwind of the night, I really needed some


    quiet time like this. For some reason, the quiet subway at night always feels soothing to me, when it


    would make most people ufortable.


    I sit by the window, staring into the dark tunnel as the train lurches forward.


    That’s when he sits next to me. A man in a crisp business suit, reeking of arrogance, and, as I soon


    realize, alcohol.


    “Hey there, beautiful,” he begins, his voice oozing an unsettling mixture of charm and condescension.


    Ignoring him, I focus on the passing darkness outside the window. It’ste, and thest thing I want is


    an unwanted interaction. Maybe, if I just pretend that he’s not here, he’ll get the hint and move on. It’s


    worked before. Usually.


    “So, what’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone at this hour?” he continues, undeterred by myck of


    response.


    I sigh. I should move. Gathering my things, I make my way to a seat on the opposite side of the train


    car. But he follows, plopping down beside me, closer this time. His scent—a cocktail of aftershave and


    booze—assaults my senses.


    “Why’d you move, sweetheart? I’m just trying to make friendly conversation.”


    “Listen, I’m not interested,” I say, voice firm, hoping to shut down any further discussion. “Find


    someone else to bother.”


    “Oh,e on. You haven’t even gotten to know me yet. I’m an Alpha, you see. And I’ve got lots of


    money. I could show you a night you’ll never forget.”


    My skin crawls at his insinuation. The word ‘Alpha’ seems to ooze from his lips as if it were a crown


    rather than a ring red g.


    “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll pass,” I reply politely, desperate for this ride to end.


    “You sure about that, sweetie?” His eyes narrow, and heys a hand on my thigh, as if he owns it. “You


    don’t know what you''re missing.”


    My stomach lurches at his touch. I shove his hand away, my patience shattering. “I said I’m not


    interested.”


    His face contorts, the veneer of faux charm vanishing, reced by raw, seething anger. “You think


    you’re too good for me or something, little bitch?”


    “Just back off,” I growl.


    The man smirks. “So you do think you’re too good for an Alpha like me. I should teach you some


    manners.”


    Before I can stop him, the man leans closer to me, attempting to press his lips against my neck. With a


    yelp, I push him away and look around. No one is even trying to help me, either too engrossed in their


    phones or not wanting to get involved. I feel trapped and alone.


    I assess my options. The train ising up on a stop, which isn’t even close to my stop, but it’s better


    than staying here. And if he tries to follow me, I could at least try to fake him out and jump back on the


    train just before it takes off.


    As the stopes up, I stand abruptly, shoving the man away.


    “What do you think you’re doing?” he growls.


    “Getting out of here,” I say, gathering my belongings as the train screeches to a halt at the next station.


    The doors slide open, and I make my exit, not looking back, even when he yells something


    unintelligible after me.


    My breath catches as I wait for the moment of departure, half-expecting him to make ast-minute exit


    to follow me. But he doesn’t. The train vanishes into the tunnel, taking with it the immediate threat but


    leaving me alone in a sea of vulnerability.


    I nce around the dimly lit station and curse under my breath. The tform is deserted, its shadowy


    corners making it an ideal ce for unsavory encounters. A quick look at the time on my phone


    confirms what I already suspected: that was thest train.


    “Great. Just great, Abby,” I mutter to myself, frustration mingling with the residual adrenaline in my


    veins.


    Deciding that staying in this underground station isn’t an option, I make my way up to the street level.


    The stairs seem steeper than usual, as if begrudging my exit.


    When I finally emerge, the world I step into is devoid of life, the night sky a nket of imprable


    ck. Buildings stand like silent sentinels, their windows darkened eyes that watch but offer no help.


    With a shaky hand, I pull out my phone, thumbing open the Uber app. The screen takes a moment to


    popte, and when it does, my heart sinks further.


    No cars nearby. The nearest one is a 30-minute wait. I bite my lip, weighing the risks of standing alone


    on a deste street corner for half an hour. They tip the scale in favor of ‘absolutely not’.


    But what are my options? The streets are empty, no taxis in sight, and every storefront I can see is


    shrouded in darkness, closed for the night. A bus? Unlikely, given the hour and theck of any visible


    stops.


    I pull up G****e Maps, the blue dot of my location blinking like a beacon in a sea of unfamiliar street


    names. Spotting a main road a few blocks away, I make my decision.


    “Okay. I’ll walk to the main road,” I murmur, pocketing my phone and taking a cautious step forward.


    “There have to be cabs there. Or people. Anything is better than this.”


    As I navigate thebyrinthine streets, each turn seems to echo thest, a twisted maze designed to


    disorient. The click-ck of my heels on the pavement is the only sound, a metronome that ticks away


    the minutes and the distance. But as I walk, my senses heighten, fine-tuned to any anomaly in the


    surrounding stillness.


    That’s when I hear it. A low whistle, followed by hushed voices that carry a tone no woman wants to


    hear when she''s alone. My eyes dart toward the source, finding a group of men leaning against a


    building. As I pass, their catcalls fill the air,ced with an underlying threat that makes my skin crawl.


    “Hey, baby,” one man coos, clicking his tongue. “Where are you headed? Wannae to my ce?”


    Another man chimes in. “You lost, sweetheart? Need a ride?”


    Theirughter sends a chill down my spine. I quicken my pace, but they detach from their leaning posts


    and start following me, their footsteps a haunting echo of my own.


    “Come on, don’t be shy!”


    I could ignore them, keep walking and pray they lose interest. But hope and prayer are currency that


    hold no value on a street like this. My fingers tremble as they slide my phone from my pocket. I unlock


    it, my thumb hovering over the dial pad.


    There''s a list of people I could call. Friends, family, 911.


    But my thumb defies logic and navigates toward a name I didn''t think I would ever consider as a refuge


    tonight.