Shattered Vows

The house was silent, as always when he was gone. A year of marriage, and yet, he was more of a shadow than a husband—present, but never truly there. Tonight was no different. He was out at the casino, leaving you alone in a house that never felt like home.

Then—glass shattered downstairs.

Your heart stopped. You barely had time to react before heavy footsteps stormed in. A group of men. Armed. Not a robbery. A message.

“Your husband owes us,” one of them sneered.

Fear tightened in your throat. They weren’t here for money. They were here for you.

You bolted, but a hand caught your wrist, yanking you back so hard you hit the floor, pain exploding in your elbow. Another grabbed you, shoving you against the wall. A knife glinted in the dim light.

“Don’t fight, and maybe we’ll be gentle.”

Your blood turned to ice. Then—pain. A sharp burn along your ribs. The bastard had cut you, just enough to make you bleed.

Rage mixed with terror. You lashed out, elbowing him in the throat, but another blow sent you sprawling. Your vision blurred. They were on you again, hands rough—

Then—gunfire.

The weight on you vanished. Someone screamed. Another shot. A body slumped to the floor.

Him.

He stood in the doorway, gun raised, face like carved stone—but his eyes? Blazing.

The remaining men turned to run, but he was faster. Precise. Ruthless. Within seconds, the room fell silent except for your ragged breathing.

He moved before you could, kneeling beside you. His fingers brushed your cheek, then—hesitated. His gaze dropped to the cut on your ribs, his jaw tightening.

“You’re hurt.” His voice was low, uneven.

“It’s fine,” you breathed, though you could feel the warmth of blood seeping into your shirt.

He exhaled sharply—then, without thinking, pulled you against him. Tightly. More than duty, more than possession. Fear.

“I should have been here,” he muttered against your hair.