(ARIELLE'S POV)
One of the drunken men seemed to recognize Jared. He whispered to the others, "Could these bitches know Smith?"
The second man scoffed, dismissing the idea. “Impossible. They must be some pathetic women trying to cling to the riches.” His words were thick with condescension as he took a step closer, reaching for my arm.
I jerked away, my voice rising in anger. “Take your hand off me!”
Jared froze. He turned slowly, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the situation.
I held my breath, desperate for him to intervene, praying he'd come to our rescue.
But I got the greatest shock of my life.
Jared barely glanced in our direction. His gaze was icy, detached—like we were invisible.
Oliver hesitated, his uncertainty clear, but Jared spoke first, his voice cool and calm.
"We just came out to get some air, Oliver." He motioned to the chaos without a flicker of emotion. "Don't get involved in something we don’t know about."
I saw the tension in Oliver’s shoulders as he clearly wanted to step in, but he didn’t. He was frozen by Jared's indifference.
Jared didn’t even spare us another glance. He turned toward the woman beside him, a face I still couldn’t recognize, and then, as if we were nothing more than a passing inconvenience, he started to walk away.
My heart somersaulted and sank in my stomach.
I felt my breath hitching, as my hands began to tremble. The sight of Jared, each step away from us, was like a dagger to my chest.
"Did...did he just walk away...?" Ashley stuttered beside me.
I couldn't respond as I found it hard to believe. But then, Jared finally turned his gaze towards us again, his expression unreadable now.
My chest tightened, refusing to believe he could leave us like this. I locked eyes with him, willing him to understand the danger, hoping he’d do something—anything—to help.
"Do we have any relationship that requires me to help you?" He asked, looking me up and down. “Tell me; who are you to me?”
The words hit like a slap. I winced, my hope dashing to pieces as I moped in disbelief. My teeth clenched, anger growing and bubbling inside of me despite how helpless I was.
Before I could respond, a loud voice boomed through the air.
"Back off!"
I spun around, relief flooding my veins as I saw Dwayne, flanked by two imposing figures: Claire and Roman, Ashley's boss. Both men strode purposefully in pure black suits. Their presence was so commanding that I could feel Dwayne’s fury radiating with every step.
The moment they stepped forward, the three drunken men backed off immediately, their faces morphing from bravado to fear.
The lethal aura of the Mafia was indeed extraordinary.
The danger had passed, but my chest still ached. I glanced at Ashley, whose eyes were wide, filled with fear and confusion. She kept looking over at Roman.
I let out a shaky breath of relief, grateful Ashley and I were unharmed apart from a few red marks on our skin from the scuffle. It was nothing a few ice cubes couldn’t fix. All things considered, we were as good as alright.
Dwayne walked over to me, his expression tight with worry. "Are you okay?" His eyes searched mine, scanning for any sign of injury.
I nodded, the tension in my body still too raw. "I'm fine," I said, though my voice didn’t sound sure.
"Those bastards!" He groaned through gritted teeth. "I'm so sorry, Arielle. I should have gotten here earlier."
I shook my head, I was not going to let him blame himself, when he had actually rescued me. "It's not your fault, Dwayne. You got here when it mattered. If you didn't, I don't know what would have happened. Those men..." My voice trailed off as I tried not to think of the harm they could have caused us.
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