My husband had just snapped my arm inside our apartment

Vincent stood up straight and looked over at Marco.

"Which arm did he break?" Vincent asked smoothly.

"The left one, boss," Marco replied, holding Mark’s left arm flat against the heavy oak table.

"Fix the balance," Vincent said quietly.

Mark let out a shriek of pure, unadulterated terror—a sound that was cut short by a sudden, sickening sound that echoed through the small living room.

I squeezed my eyes shut, hiding my face against the sofa cushion as the heavy footfalls of Vincent’s men moved around the room.

When I opened my eyes ten seconds later, Mark was slumped unconscious on the floor, his face white, his arm held in a heavy medical splint that Marco had pulled from an emergency kit. He was alive, but he would never, ever raise a hand to anyone again.

Vincent walked over to where I lay. He dropped to one knee, completely unbothered by the dusty carpet, and reached out with his gloved hands.

With unbelievable gentleness, he slid his arms beneath my back and knees, lifting me off the floor as if I weighed nothing at all. He held my broken arm firmly against his chest, protecting it from any movement or vibration.

"It's over, little bird," Vincent whispered, his voice warm, steady, shielding me from the violent horror of the room. "You're never coming back to this place."

He carried me out of the ruined apartment, down the four flights of stairs, and into the night air. The rain was still falling, but two of his men stood on either side of the walkway holding large black umbrellas over us, keeping every drop of water off my skin.

He placed me carefully into the plush, heated leather backseat of his lead Escalade. A woman in medical scrubs was already waiting in the back with an IV line and pain medication ready.

"Where are we going?" I asked, my voice weak as the nurse gently inserted a small needle into the back of my right hand, sending a wave of cool, numbing relief through my system.

Vincent stepped into the car beside me, closing the heavy door, shutting out the sound of the rain, the city, and my old life forever.