Ashanti closes the distance in a fraction of a second. Her boots make no sound on the wet asphalt. She thrusts the combat knife directly at Bowen's neck with lethal intent.
Bowen doesn't retreat. Instead, he steps inside Ashanti's guard. He casually deflects her wrist with his forearm.
The sound of bone striking bone echoes sharply in the narrow alley. Bowen's expression remains completely bored.
Ashanti recovers instantly. She spins her body weight into a low, vicious sweep kick aimed at Bowen's knees to cripple his mobility.
Bowen leaps slightly, clearing the sweep by an inch. He uses his downward momentum to drive a heavy knee toward Ashanti's chest.
Ashanti crosses her arms to block the brutal strike. The sheer kinetic force of his knee sends her sliding backward across the wet pavement. Her boots scrape loudly against the ground.
Anissa screams Ashanti's name. Terror grips her throat. She has never seen anyone manhandle her highly trained bodyguard with such terrifying ease.
Anissa drops to her knees. She grabs a discarded, broken glass bottle from the dirty ground. She raises it as a makeshift weapon, ready to jump into the fight to save Ashanti.
Bowen notices Anissa's movement out of the corner of his eye.
He immediately drops his aggressive stance. He raises both hands in the air in a gesture of absolute surrender.
"Your footwork has gotten sloppy," Bowen says, his voice calm. "Not like our last sparring match in the Arizona desert. Three years ago."
Ashanti freezes. Her eyes widen in absolute shock. The words register in her brain. Her knife trembles slightly in her tight grip.
Anissa demands to know what Bowen is talking about. Her voice is shrill with panic.
"Ashanti has never been to Arizona with anyone but my family!" Anissa insists.
Bowen looks at Anissa. His eyes are laced with a bitter, heavy sadness.
"Do you truly not remember the sandstorms?" Bowen asks quietly. "Or the promise we made?"
Another sharp, agonizing spike of pain hits Anissa's temples. The pain is blinding. It forces her to drop the glass bottle. It shatters against the pavement. She clutches her head, her knees buckling slightly.
Bowen takes a half-step forward. His hand reaches out instinctively to comfort her. His cold facade breaks, revealing raw desperation.
Ashanti instantly snaps out of her shock. She lunges forward, slashing the air between Bowen and Anissa with her blade. She forces him back.
Ashanti positions herself entirely in front of Anissa. She uses her own body as a human shield. She glares at Bowen with pure, lethal intent.
Bowen sighs. He straightens his suit jacket. His demeanor returns to cold, calculated professionalism. He knows he pushed too hard.
"I accidentally drove you away three years ago," Bowen tells Anissa, his voice tight. "It was a mistake. I have spent every single day since trying to rectify it."
Anissa fights through the pounding headache. She glares at him from behind Ashanti's shoulder.
"You are a delusional creep," Anissa spits back. "I have no idea who you are."
Bowen's jaw clenches. A muscle ticks furiously in his cheek as he absorbs the harsh, brutal rejection from the woman he loves.
He reaches into his inner jacket pocket. He pulls out a sleek, black business card. He flick it effortlessly through the air.
The card lands perfectly at Anissa's feet.
"Call me when you finally get tired of Julian's golden cage," Bowen says.
Without waiting for a response, Bowen turns. He walks toward the opposite end of the dark alley, melting seamlessly into the shadows until he is gone.
Anissa leans heavily against the wet brick wall. Her breathing is ragged. Her chest heaves. She waits until Bowen's footsteps completely disappear.
Ashanti quickly turns around. She checks Anissa for injuries. Her hands sign frantic, urgent questions about Anissa's headache.
Anissa waves her off. "It's just stress," she lies. She refuses to acknowledge the terrifying, strange familiarity of Bowen's words.
Anissa looks down at the black business card on the wet ground. She hesitates for a fraction of a second. Her heart beats wildly.
Instead of picking it up, Anissa deliberately steps on the card. She grinds it into the dirt and grime with the heel of her sneaker.
As they turn the corner out of the alley, Anissa pulls Ashanti into the shadow of a closed storefront. "Ashanti," Anissa demands, her voice a tight, breathless whisper. "You know him. I saw your face. Why were you so shocked?"
Ashanti hesitates, her hands moving in rapid, tense signs. 'I am not sure. He moves like someone from my past, a dangerous ghost. But it is impossible.'
Anissa's stomach twists, the headache throbbing fiercely against her skull. She grabs Ashanti's arm. Her fingers dig into the fabric.
"We need a drink," Anissa declares. "And a safe place to sit down before we head back to that nightmare estate."
