Chapter 2 - A Kingdom of Marble and Silk
Mark tried to speak,
to assert some kind of dominance in his own home,
but the words died in his throat.
"Get out,"
Mark finally managed to stutter,
holding the bottle out with a shaking hand.
Vincent didn't even look at him.
He took a single step into the bathroom,
walking right past Mark as if he were a piece of discarded furniture.
He knelt down in front of me,
ignoring the blood that stained his expensive trousers.
"Can you walk,
Lena?"
he asked,
his voice softening only for me.
I nodded,
though the room was tilting dangerously.
He reached out,
his large hand hovering near my face before gently tucking a stray hair behind my ear.
"You shouldn't have touched her,"
Vincent said,
his voice dropping an octave as he finally addressed Mark.
He didn't turn around.
He didn't have to.
At his words,
the two men behind him moved with a terrifying,
synchronized speed.
Before Mark could even swing the bottle,
he was pinned against the wall.
A muffled grunt escaped him as a gloved hand clamped over his mouth.
"Don't kill him,"
Vincent ordered,
standing up and lifting me into his arms as if I weighed nothing.
"Not yet."
"He hasn't apologized for the mess he made."
I buried my face into Vincent’s chest,
the scent of expensive cologne and tobacco wrapping around me.
It should have been terrifying,
being held by a man who ordered deaths as easily as coffee.
But for the first time in five years,
I felt safe.
He carried me out of the apartment,
past the broken door and the shattered remains of my life.
Downstairs,
a fleet of black SUVs sat idling,
their headlights cutting through the New York rain.
He placed me in the back of the lead car,
where a woman in a white coat was already waiting.
"Fix her,"
Vincent commanded,
sliding in beside me.
The car moved smoothly into the night,
leaving the grimy streets of my past behind.
We drove for what felt like hours,
crossing into a part of the city I had only seen in magazines.
We pulled up to a massive estate,
hidden behind iron gates and high stone walls.
The house was a fortress of marble and glass,
shining like a jewel under the moon.
Vincent helped me out,
his arm around my waist to steady me.
As we entered the grand foyer,
servants moved in silence,
bowing their heads as we passed.
"This is your home now,"
Vincent said,
leading me toward a sprawling bedroom filled with soft linens and the scent of jasmine.
"Why?"
I asked,
my voice a mere whisper as the doctor began to examine my arm.
"Why did you give me that card?"
Vincent stood by the window,
looking out at the city he ruled.
"Because I saw the way you looked at the world,
Lena."
"Like you were waiting for it to strike you."
"And I decided that if anyone was going to strike,"
"it wouldn't be some coward in a diner."
He turned back to me,
his eyes dark and unreadable.
May you like
"Sleep now."
"The world cannot reach you here."
