Chapter 6 - PROTECTION AND POWER
Vincent gasped, dropping Faith’s wrist as if he had been burned. He backed away rapidly, his hands trembling as he stared at the terrifying figure standing in his doorway.
Francesco walked into the apartment with slow, deliberate steps. He wore a sharp charcoal coat, his expression entirely devoid of emotion. Behind him, Marco closed the shattered door, standing guard in the entryway.
Francesco didn't even look at Vincent at first. His eyes went directly to Faith’s wrist, where red marks were already forming on her pale skin.
A dark, lethal stillness settled over Francesco.
“You touched her,” Francesco said softly. The quietness of his voice was far more terrifying than a shout.
Vincent swallowed hard, his confidence vanishing completely. “Who... who the hell are you? This is private property! I’m calling the police!”
Vincent reached for his phone on the counter, but Marco moved with terrifying speed, slamming his hand down on the counter and crushing the phone beneath his heavy grip. Vincent shrieked, cowering back against the wall.
Francesco stepped closer to Vincent. “Do you know who I am, boy?”
Vincent looked at Francesco’s face, then at the bespoke suit, the gold signet ring on his pinky finger, and the two broad-shouldered men standing behind him. Recognition slowly dawned in Vincent’s eyes, bringing with it raw, unadulterated terror.
“M-Mr. Moretti,” Vincent stammered, his voice cracking. “I... I didn't know... I didn't realize Faith knew you...”
“Miss Buchanan is under my protection,” Francesco said coldly. He reached out and adjusted Vincent’s crumpled collar with terrifying composure. “And you have treated her with incredible disrespect.”
“It was a mistake!” Vincent pleaded, his knees trembling. “We just had a disagreement! She was my fiancée—”
“You abandoned her in a freezing storm,” Francesco interrupted, his dark eyes fixing Vincent with a lethal glare. “You cheated on her, insulted her, and then you laid your hands on her in my presence.”
Francesco slapped Vincent across the face—a sharp, heavy blow that knocked the younger man to his knees. Vincent clutched his bleeding lip, sobbing quietly on the hardwood floor.
“If I ever see you near her again,” Francesco whispered, leaning down so his face was inches from Vincent’s, “if you call her phone, if you walk down the same street she is walking down, I will ensure that you disappear from this city permanently. Do you understand me?”
“Yes! Yes, I understand! I’m sorry!” Vincent wept, staring at the floor in terror.
Francesco turned back to Faith, his expression softening instantly as his gaze met hers.
“Do you have everything you need, Faith?” he asked gently.
Faith took a deep breath, looking at the man who had once terrified her, now broken and weeping on the floor. She felt no pity, only a profound sense of closure.
“Yes,” Faith said quietly, holding her document box tightly. “I have everything.”
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“Then let us go home,” Francesco said.
He offered her his arm. Faith walked over, slipped her arm through his, and allowed him to escort her out of the apartment, leaving her past behind forever.
