She's mine.

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Feliciana Banquette

I walked home and the skies were sobbing. My car was technically goverment property but making me walk home in the rain is quite the stretch. I'm soaked to the brim, my uniform was almost see-through and my black bra was biting at my skin. My brown hair is sticking to the back of my neck. I scoffed as I dragged my feet to my apartment building "Chic Inn". I run through the events of my day in my head

"You're even hotter when you're angry." My heart spoke in rapid thumps as the words traced my mind. He thought I was hot. Me. Hot. It sounds almost stupid. Here I was, a 25-year-old who just got a suspension from her job in desperate need of a whiskey with all my imperfections. How could anyone find me pretty, let alone hot? My mind wanders elsewhere. My cheeks flush crimson as I wonder how it would feel to grind on his lap. I facepalm.

"Get it together, Feliciana..." I mutter to myself as I picked up my feet again. I see a bus stop nearby and try to stop myself from squealing in relief. I was hooded from the rain as I sat on an uncomfortable bench. It was still better than being soaked to the brim. An older man sits beside me and the air feels sticky with tension as he eyes me, discomfort etched on my face. I knew how see-through my clothes were as water had seeped through the thin fabric. The man reached out to touch my thigh and lightly caress it. I flinched.

"Stop, please..." I managed to utter but the man continued nefariously.
"Stop in the name of the law!" I tried to swatt his calloused hand away but his grip was firm.

I heard steady footsteps thunder against the pavement slowly. A figure in a black hoodie approaches the scene.

I look up and can't see the figure's face in the night. My emerald eyes glistened with pleading.

A low voice errupted out of the figure, a deep, coaxing voice that was far too familiar.