John felt his hands sweat as he waited anxiously in his truck, holding a damp cloth, waiting for her to leave the pub. The neon sign cast an eerie red glow across his weathered face, highlighting the stubble on his jaw and the intensity in his eyes that hadn't dimmed with retirement.

When she finally stumbled out, laughter trailing behind her as her friends waved goodbye, his heart rate spiked. She was drunk enough to accept help from anyone, and he smiled, "My beautiful love.." he murmured, the words barely audible above the sound of crickets in the night.

He got out of his truck and moved silently through the darkness, his military training evident in his quiet footsteps. The parking lot was nearly empty, the only light coming from a flickering streetlamp that cast long shadows.

When he had the chance, he wrapped his strong arm around her waist from behind, pulling her back against his solid chest. She started to scream, but he quickly placed the damp cloth over her nose and mouth, applying gentle pressure as she struggled in his grip. The scent of chloroform filled her nostrils, sharp and chemical against the alcohol on her breath.

"Shhh, don't fight it, love," he whispered in her ear, his voice low and soothing as her struggles weakened. "You'll be home soon. Safe with me." Her body went limp against his, and he carefully lowered her to the ground before lifting her effortlessly into his arms and carrying her to the truck.