A flash of red sped past, and Lena hesitated about calling for help, but she had just escaped from a car moments ago, and her fear was still fresh. She walked along the main road, trying to get her phone to turn back on, but it was dead.
Suddenly, the red car reversed and stopped in front of her. A man stepped out quickly, his expression serious, slamming the car door shut as he asked, “Why didn’t you say anything when you called...?”
Alaric stopped mid-sentence.
Lena’s hair was a mess, covering half of her face. She had a frown, but in the one visible eye, he saw fear and unease. There was a clear mark on her cheek, left by someone’s tight grip, and her shirt was torn open at the front. She held a phone with a cracked screen in her scratched and bruised hand, and her legs bore cuts of
