A scream tears up the silence of the pitch-black night. It comes from a girl who presses herself firmly against the wall of the house. Her eyes are filled with fear and the knowledge that this situation is hopeless. At this moment she desires nothing more than to merge with the cold shadows around her. Because that would be the only way to escape him. The man who holds the muzzle of his weapon firmly pointed at her breast. A broad grin that could turn into a loud laughter at any moment can be seen on his lips. Although she was already in such situations, this time it's different. The man's finger on the trigger doesn't tremble, and the man doesn't look as insecure as those she'd met before. Instead, he seems relaxed to kill her broadly if she doesn't cooperate.
"What do you want," she asks. The fear in her voice is clear to hear as he takes a step towards her. "Your money", the man's voice is hard and numb. Slowly she puts her trembling hands into the pockets of her worn jacket. She pulls out an old, grey leather portmoney in which she stores her little money.
The man rips the object out of her hand, and she gets a glimpse of a tattoo. She can immediately assign it to one of the gangs who have been up to no good in London for some time. Her breath stops for a moment, but she quickly averts her gaze.
Slowly the man lowers his weapon, but his free hand clenches to a fist. But before he can reach out and ram his rock-hard fist into the young woman's ribs, all the muscles in his body lose their strength. A sound unbearable for the young woman sounds and the man's head detaches itself from his body as if it were the lightest thing in the world. The man's head lands on the hard stone floor and the body follows a few seconds later.
For a few seconds the brunette stares at the lifeless body, whose heartbeat fades within seconds. She swallows heavily, shocked by the rapid death of the man and then looks up.
In front of her stands a woman. Her dark brown hair is tied to an elaborate updo and her green eyes glow in the light of the moon. You could call her a real beauty, but the blood dripping from her fingers makes the girl shudder. With widened eyes she stares at the woman, instinctively trying to move back a little, but only feels the wall in her back.
"W-What have they done," the girl stutters in disbelief. This man certainly deserves it, but nobody should decide on the death of another, if not the physical death itself.
"I saved your life", the voice of the unknown is sweet and gentle. Unlike the one the young woman would attribute to a murderer. Without thinking long and hard, further questions bubble out of her: "Why?" "I will explain that to you", she gives the young girl a gentle smile: "But now come with me. No one is allowed to see us here. "I don't even know her," she defends herself against the requests of the stubborn woman. "But I know you, Nora Hildegard", the elegant woman pulls out a handkerchief and wipes the blood from her hands. Then she stretches out a hand to the girl: "My name is Lilian Salvatore, but my family calls me Lily."
