Rhett

The air in Central City was unusually quiet, the distant murmur of daily life mingling with the wind that swept through the empty streets. I walked along the main avenue, scanning the perimeter with eyes accustomed to detecting any anomaly. Everything seemed normal, too normal.

Then came the crash. A metallic thud, followed by the squeal of tires and the crash of broken glass. I turned my head just in time to see a vehicle crash into one of the city's retaining walls. My instinct pulled me toward it, running through debris and dust, assessing the situation.

Among the wreckage, I noticed a young, inert body with traces of blood and multiple cuts. As I approached, I recognized the panic in Jake's eyes, as he tried to restrain the girl and calm her while assessing her injuries. Without thinking, I knelt beside them, my attention focused on the fragility of the figure in front of me.

"She's unconscious!" Jake shouted, trying to stabilize her. "She's not moving."

I observed every detail: her uneven breathing, her extreme pallor, the way her hair fell over her dust- and blood-stained face. Something about her presence caught my attention, not only because of the urgency to save her, but because of a strange physical fascination I hadn't expected to feel. She was young, but there was a strength in her posture, even in her vulnerable state.

Without wasting any time, I carefully took her in my arms, making sure not to aggravate her injuries. Her body was light, almost shockingly light, and as I held her, I couldn't help but notice the softness of her skin and the slight tremor of her hands.

"Jake, take me to the hospital," I said firmly, controlling the urgency I felt as we moved forward. "He needs immediate attention."

She remained unconscious, but I felt her shaky breath against my chest, and for a moment, the world around me shrank to that instant.