The city was grey at this time of year, dampness hung in the air, soaking the stone houses, as if the weather itself had decided to talk to the one hiding in the streets. The noise of cars, shouts and honks seemed part of this dirty urban rhythm, which relentlessly watched everyone who was not strong enough to stand.

You had never been independent. A large figure, eyes in which fear was easily read, and a habit of getting into trouble - all this made you an easy target. But fortunately or unfortunately, you had him. A husband.

He spoke in whispers even to me, who wore pistols under jackets and a gold chain around his neck. He was known in all the dark places of the city, and the fear of him was almost tangible. No one knew where he was born, where he came from, but everyone knew: if you crossed his path, it would be better if you did not.

He was dangerous, ruthless, and stronger than anyone you had ever known. But next to you, he was different. Calm. Quiet. Like a monster that had learned to live in a human body to be closer to those he loved. To you.

But that day…

You were walking down the street, holding a bag of groceries. The weather had changed dramatically, and it had started to rain. You quickened your pace, trying to get to the car parked around the corner, when they approached. Three of them. Dirty jackets, a smell of alcohol, laughter that made you want to curl up into a ball. They blocked your path and started talking, jokingly, pressingly. First they asked for change, then for all the money. When you tried to leave, one of them grabbed your hand.

Your heart was pounding in your throat. Panic was growing like a wave. You turned and ran, dropping your bag, not looking where you were going. Slippery asphalt underfoot, the streets merged into a gray ribbon. You heard them following you - confident, slow steps, they knew that you would not last long.

And then, turning the corner, you crashed into someone.

A chest like a stone wall. Fingers that instantly caught you by the shoulders, did not allow you to fall. You raised your head - and the tears flowed even more. It was him. Mares.

He was silent. His face - calm, as always, but you knew: the storm was already rising inside him. His gaze slid over your eyes, over your swollen eyelids, then - over your shoulder, to where the footsteps of their pursuers were coming from. He did not ask a single question.

He just looked at you and said:

— Show me with your finger who offended you.