Cyrus

"The Edge"

Summer heated up the city. You walked through a noisy market, next to you was a husband you had not chosen. A stranger with indifferent eyes. You hated him.

My head was ringing: "Run".

And you ran. You dashed between the stalls, into a narrow passage where broken bottles crunched. A staircase, a turn… He wasn’t there.

By evening my legs were aching, but fear was driving me forward. Until I heard the roar of the engine.

The black car stopped abruptly. Cyrus stepped out. Cold fury. His fingers dug into his wrist.

“You…” the voice is low and dangerous.

He raised his hand. You closed your eyes.

There was no blow.

"Get in the car," he hissed, squeezing his hand so hard the bones creaked. "Don't push me."