The Shadows (Underworld 4) JH

23: Watch Over Him

Minghao tried to shake off the unsettling encounter at the café as he threw himself back into his work. The rest of the day passed in a blur, filled with meetings, emails, and the endless demands of preparing for his upcoming exhibition. He buried himself in the familiar routine, hoping that the mundane tasks would drown out the anxiety gnawing at him. But no matter how hard he tried to focus, Junhui's piercing gaze kept resurfacing in his mind, like a ghost he couldn't escape.

As night fell, Minghao gathered his things and headed out into the dimly lit streets of the city. The cool evening air brushed against his skin, a welcome relief from the stuffy confines of his studio. The streets were quieter now, the hustle and bustle of the day giving way to a more serene, almost eerie calm. Yet, despite the peaceful surroundings, Minghao couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.

He walked briskly, his footsteps echoing on the pavement, his eyes flicking to every shadow, every dark corner. The sense of unease that had been lurking in the background all day now began to intensify, each step forward only heightening the tension in his chest. The streetlights cast long, eerie shadows that seemed to move and shift with every gust of wind.

Minghao tried to convince himself that it was nothing, just the remnants of his earlier paranoia. But as he turned down a narrow alleyway, taking a shortcut he often used, the sensation became impossible to ignore. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he felt a cold sweat break out across his skin. Someone was definitely following him.

His pace quickened instinctively, his heart pounding in his chest as the alley stretched out before him, seemingly endless. The sound of footsteps echoed behind him, growing closer, more insistent. Minghao's mind raced, panic clawing at his throat. He risked a glance over his shoulder and caught sight of several figures emerging from the shadows—three, maybe four men, their faces obscured by hoods, their intentions unmistakably sinister.

"Hey there, pretty boy," one of them sneered, his voice dripping with malice. "Where do you think you're going?"

Minghao's breath caught in his throat, and he broke into a run, adrenaline surging through his veins. But the alley was a dead end, the walls too high to climb, and before he could react, they had him cornered. Fear coursed through him as the men closed in, their eyes gleaming with predatory intent.

"Please, I don't want any trouble," Minghao said, his voice shaking as he backed up against the cold brick wall.

"Too late for that," another of the men chuckled darkly, pulling out a knife, its blade catching the dim light. "Give us everything you have, or we'll take it the hard way."

Minghao's heart raced, his mind scrambling for a way out, but every path seemed blocked, every option too dangerous. He braced himself for the worst, his eyes squeezing shut in fear. And then, out of nowhere, a swift, dark figure appeared at the mouth of the alley.

In an instant, the situation changed. The masked man moved like a shadow, swift and lethal. Before the robbers could react, he was on them, disarming the first with a quick, brutal twist of the wrist. The knife clattered to the ground, and the man crumpled, clutching his hand in pain.

"Get lost," the masked man growled, his voice low and menacing, sending a clear message that echoed through the narrow space.

The other robbers hesitated, their bravado faltering in the face of this unexpected savior. One of them lunged, but the masked man was faster, sidestepping the attack and delivering a swift kick to the man's knee, sending him to the ground with a cry of pain.