Milo finally caught his breath, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The pungent scent of stench blood still lingered in the night air, mixing with the cool breeze that swept across the junkyard, rustling loose scraps of paper and whispering through the skeletal remains of abandoned vehicles.
He turned, his boots crunching softly against the debris-strewn ground, stepping closer to the lady still seated on the cold ground, her delicate frame trembling, the aftershocks of terror still gripping her body like chains. Her bare skin gleamed under the pale moonlight, a sheen of sweat tracing the curves of her collarbone.
Milo slowly stretched out his right hand toward her, fingers open in silent reassurance. "It's okay. Everything is over now." His voice low yet steady.
A moment of silence stretched between them, thick and unspoken, broken only by the woman's heavy, uneven breaths. The chilling night breeze whispered around them, carrying the scent of rust and damp earth.
