My 8-year-old niece was hospitalized. When I tried to leave after visiting her, she grabbed my hand. “Please don’t leave me alone tonight,” she said with tears in her eyes. I asked, “Why?” she whispered, “You’ll understand at night.” That night, I quietly peeked into her hospital room…

My military training kicked in before my conscious mind could even process the rage surging through my veins.

Adrenaline flooded my system, sharpening my vision and turning the background noise of the hospital into a distant, muffled hum. I stepped out of the linen alcove, keeping my steps light, my weight balanced on the balls of my feet.

I reached the door of Room 314 in four quick, silent strides.

I didn't open the door immediately. Pushing in blind could provoke an unpredictable reaction, especially if Vance was armed. Instead, I leaned my ear against the narrow crack between the door and the frame, listening intently while looking through the narrow glass window.

Inside, the green glow of the monitors illuminated the room in ghostly shades.

Tessa was still sleeping on the pull-out sofa, her back to the room, snoring softly. She hadn't heard him enter.

Vance was standing at the side of Marin’s bed.

He wasn't touching her, but he was leaning over her, his hands resting on the metal bed rail. Marin was wide awake. Her eyes were huge, filled with white terror, reflected in the monitor light. She had pulled the blanket up to her nose, her entire small frame rigid as stone.

Vance bent down until his face was inches from hers.

“You’re a quiet little girl, aren't you, Marin?” Vance’s voice was a low, scratchy whisper—a sound that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “You remember what we talked about at the house? You remember what happens if you start telling stories to the doctors?”

Marin didn't move. She didn't scream. She didn't even breathe. She just stared at him, paralyzed by a fear so profound it had completely broken her voice.

“Your mom works hard,” Vance whispered, leaning closer. “She’s got enough troubles without you making up lies about how you fell down those stairs. You tell anyone else it wasn't an accident, and I’ll make sure your mom loses her job. I’ll make sure you both have to leave that house. You understand me?”

Marin gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.

“Good girl,” Vance whispered. He reached out a gloved hand and patted her broken arm over the cast—not roughly, but with a horrifying, possessive familiarity that sent a wave of pure, unadulterated fury through my chest. “I’ll see you at home tomorrow.”

At home tomorrow.

The words clicked together in my head like the teeth of a iron trap.

Vance wasn't a stranger who had broken into the hospital. He knew where she lived. He had been at her house.

I didn't wait another second.

I grabbed the silver door handle, turned it all the way down, and shoved the heavy wooden door open with enough force that it slammed against the interior wall with a thunderous BANG.

Vance spun around instantly, his hand darting to his jacket pocket.

Tessa gasped, waking up abruptly on the sofa, disentangling herself from the blanket and blinking in confusion against the sudden noise. “What—what is happening? Andrew?!”

I didn't look at Tessa. My eyes were locked entirely on Mark Vance.

I stepped into the room, closing the distance between us before he could react. I grabbed him by the front of his dark jacket with my left hand, driving him backward until his spine hit the concrete wall beside the sink with a heavy CRACK.

“Andrew!” Tessa screamed, scrambling out of the sofa bed. “What are you doing?!”

Vance’s face twisted in shock and pain, his eyes widening as he recognized me. “Mercer? What the hell—let go of me!”

“Give me one reason why I shouldn't break your neck right now, Mark,” I growled, my voice terrifyingly calm, my right hand pulling his collar tight against his throat until his breath hitched.

“Andrew, stop!” Tessa rushed over, grabbing my arm, trying to pull me off him. “He’s my friend! What is wrong with you? Let him go!”

I froze.

I looked at my sister. She was standing beside us, her face pale, her hands trembling as she pulled at my jacket.