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The Rescue
Dario
There’s chaos as the aftermath of the race and accident unfolds, emergency lights flashing against the night sky like a violent storm, heading straight for us. The sound of sirens pierces through the air, growing closer every second.
Amidst the chaos and screams around us, I remain calm, my heart steady in my chest. I have no choice if I want to be of help to that driver. I step out of my car and pull a rope from the back.
I scan the scene, realizing someone must have panicked and tipped off the cops. My eyes lock onto the car teetering on the edge of a cliff—her car. The mysterious beauty I've been watching all night is now at the mercy of this precarious situation.
A pang of guilt pierces my chest; if I hadn't challenged her to race me directly, she wouldn't be in this mess. If I wasn't so close to her, my car wouldn't have collided with hers when the bastard behind me tried to take me off-route.
"Dammit," I mutter under my breath, pushing through the crowd as I stride towards her car. People scatter around me, their fear evident as I scream at them to move. My only purpose right now is to reach her.
"Hey! You!" I call out to a guy standing nearby, my voice authoritative, demanding his attention. "Follow me and gather five strong men.
He nods and follows. I reach the car and carefully step closer, tying the rope around myself. "Here, hold this and get the others to as well. Don't let us fall."
I make sure the rope is tight around me, and then hand it to him. "Keep everyone back from the car. Make sure no one else gets close except you guys." He nods and takes the other end of the rope, stepping into action as I approach the edge of the cliff.
"Please, be okay," I whisper, my usual stoic demeanor cracking just a bit. I feel ashamed that I don't even know her name, even though she's come up on my radar as a strong opponent.
"Can you hear me?" I call out, hoping for a response. She's still inside the car, her face hidden from view.
"Y…yes," she shouts back without turning.
The car hangs precariously over the edge of the Tarpeian Rock, its tires gripping the crumbling earth as if fighting for dear life. My heart races in my chest, but I know there's no time for hesitation. I need to get her out—now.
"Stay with me!" I shout to her, hoping my voice cuts through her panic. "I'm going to get you out of there."
I clamber over the back of the car, inching forward and carefully assessing the movement of the vehicle underneath me, hyper-aware of the danger of sending us both plummeting over the edge.
The metallic groan of buckling metal echoes around me, a reminder that we're running on borrowed time.
"Can you move?" I ask, trying to catch a glimpse of her face through the windshield. "Yes." She replies, again without moving a muscle. That same fierce determination I'd seen earlier is keeping her from freaking out.
"Good. Listen carefully. I need you to unbuckle your seatbelt, then open your window wholly. And as gently as you can, you need to lift yourself out of the window and lean towards me. Don't worry about anything else—just focus on getting to me." My words come out firm and unwavering, even as my heart hammers against my ribs.
I can see her shoulders moving as she fumbles with the buckle. Finally, it releases, and she begins to inch her way out of the window towards me.
"Almost there," I encourage her, reaching out my hand. "Just a little more."
As soon as she's close enough, I grip her wrist tightly, and pull with all my might. The movement makes the car lean further over the cliff. I jump off the boot, clinging onto her forearms and pulling her weight with me.
The car gives one final shudder and plummets over the cliff. We tumble back into the dirt, our breaths ragged and heavy at the sound of metal crashing against the rocks below fills the air.
A smattering of applause erupts from the onlookers who had gathered at a safe distance, their relief palpable. But my focus remains solely on the woman beside me, her body trembling involuntarily with adrenaline and shock.
"Are you alright?" I ask, my voice softening despite my best efforts to retain my macho image. She nods, her bottom lip quivering as she struggles to find her voice. I feel partial to this stranger, whose name I still don’t know.
"Let's get out of here before the cops show up," I suggest, helping her to her feet. There's so much more I want to know about her, and though the danger has passed for now, I have a feeling our paths have only just begun to intertwine. She stumbles a little, still weak-footed.
Immediately, instinctively, my grip tightens around her waist—surprisingly gentle. Something about her makes me want to be gentle. As I guide her away from the wreckage and the chaos, I can't help but notice how easily she fits against me.
It's as if our bodies are two puzzle pieces meant to interlock. Her curves accentuate our proximity, and I find myself acutely aware of every brush of her body against mine.
She's soft, and I'm on fire.
"Can you walk?" I ask, still holding her close. She nods hesitantly, and I feel a flicker of pride in her resilience.
