Chapter 3: Who are you?

Hazel POV

He cast his eyes upon me, swiveling me to face the same direction from which I had come. His arms encircled me, hands resting gently on my waist, and he drew me close as we started walking. I could sense the reassurance in his hands, moving up and down my waist as if attempting to console me.

Suppressing my curiosity, I trailed along. He maneuvered through the streets with an innate familiarity, navigating the pathways like a seasoned local. My gaze lingered on the man beside me, caught in a daze. Unable to contain my curiosity any longer, I finally asked, "Who are you?"

He turned to face me, his dark black eyes possessing an almost hypnotic allure, melting my heart. Internally, I admonished myself, 'Hazel, get it together. You don't even know him. Calm down, my heart.' With a soft smile, he responded, "Alessandro, but you can call me Ale". If looks could be lethal, I wished this man would do the deed instead of the unpleasant encounter I had earlier. 'What is wrong with me?' I wondered, shaking off my thoughts as I introduced myself, "Hazel."

His sharp gaze met mine, piercing my soul as he cryptically replied, "I know." Alarmed, my mind raced, 'How does he know who I am?' Thoughts whirled as I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened around my waist. Lifting me in a bridal embrace, he whispered, "Don't even think about it." 'Was he reading my mind?' I pondered, keeping my eyes locked on him, then refocusing on the passing streets.

We seemed to be headed towards a main street when a black SUV abruptly stopped in front of us. A tall, muscular figure emerged from the front seat, opening the back door. Alessandro gently placed me in the backseat, signaling for me to move so he could join me.

Alessandro exuded undeniable charisma and a commanding presence. At a lean 6 feet tall, he carried himself with grace and authority. His dark eyes held a blend of intelligence and danger, and his jet-black hair was impeccably styled, adding to an aura of controlled authority. Dressed in a crisp, tailored white shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders, and black pants that tapered perfectly, he appeared as if he had stepped out of a fashion magazine. In his mid-20s, his rugged features hinted at a life marked by challenges and triumphs. Alessandro possessed a refined air that set him apart in any room.

As we embarked on a journey to an unknown destination to me, I observed Alessandro silently giving instructions to the driver. 'To where?' I thought. Fear gripped me with an unrelenting intensity, its icy tendrils reaching deep into the core of my being. My hands and legs began to convulse uncontrollably, each tremor a manifestation of the panic seizing me. In response, Alessandro, his grasp firm and reassuring, lifted me with a gentleness that belied the storm raging within me. My back collided with his chest, a stark contrast to the chaotic tempest brewing in my mind.

His heartbeat, a steady rhythm, echoed in my ears, while the warmth of his breath brushed against the nape of my neck. In a soft, low voice that resonated through my anxious haze, he uttered, "You are safe; I will drop you to your dorm." The mere mention of the word 'dorm' sent shockwaves through me, intensifying my trembling. Desperation clawed at my thoughts, 'Shit, I think I'm having a panic attack. Please, God, not here, not now.' I muttered to myself, my inner dialogue lost in the chaotic symphony of fear.

A torrent of unsettling questions flooded my mind. 'What if he is a psycho, a serial killer, a criminal? How does he know my dorm? Do I know him?' Glancing back at Alessandro's face, I sought reassurance, yet the doubts persisted. 'No, definitely not. I would remember beauty if I saw one. No, I'm dead, definitely dead. Am I just dreaming?' The line between reality and nightmare blurred as I raised my hand, delivering a harsh slap to my own face until the metallic taste of blood tinged my mouth. 'Shit, I'm not dreaming. I'm going to die.' Tears streamed down my cheeks, the shaking escalated, and each breath felt like a burden.

Heaviness settled in my chest, my breathing became labored as I teetered on the edge of losing consciousness. Alessandro's grip, now an anchor in the maelstrom of my panic, tightened, providing a fleeting sense of security. As I surrendered to the encroaching darkness, Alessandro's grip was the last sensation I registered before surrendering to whatever fate awaited me.