The shop’s proprietor was in the midst of a battle against flies. Estelle replenished her bag with bread and energy bars, topping off her supplies with a bottle of soda.

As she browsed the aisles, a group of men approached a table where a solo young lady sat. They encircled her, their words a jumble of another language and gibberish.

“Hi, beautygirl.”

“Hey there, where you off to?”

“Looking for a place to stay?”

“Can I love you?”

Their eyes were fixed on the girl, their sneers dripping with malice. Startled, the girl stood up, clutching her purse, and hurried toward the exit.

The men were quick to follow, once again enclosing her, escalating from catcalls to unwanted touches.

Waving her purse frantically, the girl shouted,

know

be here any

to call

groped her, eliciting a piercing scream as she shoved through

cats with a mouse, their menacing laughter sending shivers down

Rolls-Royce Cullinan, pounding

man lay reclined, legs propped on the steering wheel, sunglasses masking his eyes. Awakened by the rapping on the glass, he opened his striking brown eyes only to regard the panicked girl

were all too common in a place like Citadel, and the owner had

their hands reaching

“Don’t touch me.”

“Please, let me go.”

you all my money,

and sauce splattering. The man wiped his face clean, revealing a sinister scowl

they

struggled fiercely, but a punch to

stepping out with her soda in hand, witnessed the scene. She paused, took a swig of

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