Page 16 of Forced By an Obsessive Bratva Stalker

“Hmm?”

“Don’t play dumb.” She stepped forward. “Why do you have a knife, Aria?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Well…I…I wasn’t sure who was banging on my door, so…”

“I wasn’t banging; I was knocking.”

“It was pretty loud,” I replied defensively.

She halted in front of me, her eyes never leaving mine. “What’s going on, Aria?”

Iris wasn’t kidding this time. The nature of her voice and the genuine concern in her tone made that pretty clear.

I knew she wasn’t going to stop until I told her something. So, instead of telling her the whole truth, I told her a fraction of it.

“I was um…attacked in an alley and almost got…raped.”

“What???” Her eyes widened in a mix of anger and horror. She reached out and grabbed my hands. “How? When? Where? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did you go to the police? What did they say?” The questions tumbled out of her in a frantic rush as she scanned my body like she was looking for signs of physical assault.

“Relax, I’m fine.” I beamed at her. “My attackers, though…not so much.”

The confusion in her gaze was obvious. “What do you mean?”

“Someone saved me, Iris,” I said. “Someone strong, fast, and skilled.”

“Huh?” She raised her brows.

“He was dressed in a black outfit, and he took down those men in seconds.”

“Lemme guess: He wore a black cape and a bat costume,” she teased.

“I’m serious, Iris,” I insisted.

She looked into my eyes for a moment, as if searching for the truth. “Whoa, you’re not kidding.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Does this mean Chicago has a superhero?” Her eyes lit up. “Did you get a good look at him?”

“No, it was dark, and he was in the shadows.”

“So how’d you know it’s a ‘he’ and not a ‘she’?”

“Because I know a man when I see one.”

“Damn,” she murmured under her breath. “I’m just glad that our mystery man showed up when he did. I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if he hadn’t.” She pulled me into her embrace.

I hesitated but eventually threw my arms around her, and we held on to each other tightly.

“I am so sorry that you almost experienced that,” she whispered.

“Don’t make this weird.” I slip out of her arms, a faint grin tugging at my lips.

“Well, forgive me for trying to be supportive,” she said sarcastically.

We both chuckled.

Iris stayed with me for the rest of the day, and later that evening, she helped me choose a dress. By the time we left the house after sundown, that quiet tension came creeping back inside me.