No One Touches Her

Dante stepped on the accelerator, his eyes narrowed and sharp. His brows were pulled into a sharp arch and just above them, few beads of sweat had formed on his forehead.

He had tried calling Mireille back a couple of times but she was not picking up anymore and he could not quantify his fear of losing her. How in the world would he live with the guilt of knowing that he killed her by letting her out alone? And how would he tell James about whatever happened?

He glanced at the gun on the other seat of the car. The bullets in that gun was meant for someone else but not anymore.

The bullets were now meant for whosoever had put her in danger.

Checking the location of her phone, Dante pulled the car to a halt and stepped out of the car with his phone and gun in his hands.

He only had to walk a few steps before he heard her voice.

"Help me!" It was a scream, filled with pains, pains that Dante himself could feel.

He ran towards the direction of the voice and found Mireille underneat