Fight!

I act before I can think — pure fucking instinct. I shove him as hard as I can, my palms slamming into his chest, catching him off guard. He stumbles back and his arms flail like he didn’t expect me to fight. This is it, I've got the upper hand - now I just have to use it.

Before he can fully recover, I go for it. I lash out with my boot and my foot connects, kicking his wrist with every ounce of strength I have.

The blade clatters to the ground behind him. A rush of relief surges through me — run, run now, damn it! — but the alley is too narrow, too dark, and I’m too fucking slow. I dart to slip past him, but his fingers hook into my arm, yanking me back hard. We crash to the filthy ground.

“Let go, you sick fuck!” I snarl, thrashing beneath him. He scrambles to pin me, but he’s clumsy, uncoordinated, like he’s never done this before. I’m not going down easy, fucker! My boots drive into him — gut, thigh, anywhere I can reach. Each kick lands with a satisfying grunt. "Stay away from me!"

For a second, just a second, I think I’ve got him. He rocks back with a ragged breath, and I scramble to my knees, my heart pounding so loud it drowns out the world.

But he’s faster than I expect. His hand snatches the knife from the ground, and he lunges. The glint of the blade is all I see.

“No, no, no—”

I grab his arm with both hands, fingers clawing at his wrist, trying to stop it. His strength surprises me — not because he’s so strong, but because terror has drained me, and my arms shake with the effort.

His face looms close, twisted in that sick, awful grin. The grin of someone who thinks they’ve won.

“Just fucking die already,” his eyes seem to say, and the knife inches down toward my throat.

I can’t stop it. Fuck, he's too strong...

And then —

His eyes go wide. Not in triumph. In pure shock.

Something slams into him, so fast I barely process it. Trevor’s ripped off me like a rag doll, sent flying backward through the air. He hits the brick wall with a crack that makes my stomach flip.

I gasp, sucking in the damp, stinking air.

Above me, a figure stands. I think it's the same one I saw before.

I scramble clumsily to my feet, but I’m too fucking scared to even breathe.