Path back to healing

Five

Silence hung in the air like a knife's edge, sharp and deadly. Vincent stood in the doorway, his face unreadable, but his gaze was fixed on my parents. His eyes were colder than I'd ever seen, an icy blue that seemed to pierce through them, stripping away any pretense of control they thought they had.

I watched, too stunned to move, as he took one deliberate step into the room. Each movement was calm, controlled, yet his presence seemed to suck the air out of the room, making it hard to breathe.

My father squared his shoulders, clearly trying to appear unfazed. But the flicker of fear in his eyes gave him away. "Who the hell do you think you are?" he spat, his voice wavering just enough to betray him.

Vincent didn't answer. His gaze never left my father as he closed the remaining distance between them. In one swift movement, he grabbed my father by the collar, yanking him forward. My father stumbled, his face mere inches from Vincent's, who held him effortlessly, his grip like iron.

"I'm the last person you'll ever want to cross," Vincent said quietly, his tone as cold as death itself. He turned his head slightly, his eyes flicking toward me. "Isabella," he murmured, his voice softening for the briefest moment. "Close your eyes."

I blinked, the command catching me off guard. But I couldn't look away. I was frozen, transfixed by the intensity in his gaze, by the dangerous calm that radiated from him.

He turned back to my father, his voice low and deadly. "You don't deserve to be in the same room as her," he said, each word a promise of pain.

Then, without warning, he drove his fist into my father's stomach. My father doubled over, gasping, the sound choked and desperate as he clutched at his side. But Vincent didn't give him time to recover. He shoved him backward, sending him crashing against the wall with a dull thud.

My mother let out a strangled gasp, stumbling backward as Vincent's gaze shifted to her. She looked terrified, her bravado crumbling under his stare. But she barely had time to react before Vincent stepped toward her, his movements slow and measured, like a predator sizing up its prey.

"You think you're untouchable?" Vincent asked, his voice as smooth as silk but laced with something deadly. "After everything you've done to her?" He advanced on her, his presence filling the room, suffocating, as if he was the very embodiment of judgment. "Today, that changes."

I watched, my heart pounding, feeling a twisted sense of justice and dread. I'd never seen anyone look at my parents with such contempt, as if they were nothing but insects beneath his boot.

Vincent raised his hand, holding up a single finger, almost as if giving them a countdown. "This is your last day. Both of you."

My father groaned from the floor, struggling to get up, but Vincent ignored him, his gaze never leaving my mother. "Your time is up," he said simply.

At that moment, the door opened, and six men stepped in, each one towering, dressed in black, their expressions cold and unfeeling. They spread out, forming a silent, menacing line as they approached my parents. The glint of metal flashed in their hands—thick, heavy restraints.

My father's face went pale as he realized what was happening. "You can't do this!" he shouted, his voice breaking, his bravado gone. "We'll... we'll call the police!"

Vincent's lips curved into a mocking smile, his voice a dark whisper. "They can't touch me. You think anyone would care? You've had your power over her for long enough." He stepped back, nodding to the men who immediately closed in on my parents.

One of the men grabbed my father's arms, twisting them behind his back with brutal efficiency. He cried out as the restraints snapped around his wrists, the metal biting into his skin. My mother tried to back away, but another man seized her, forcing her arms behind her back. She struggled, her voice rising in a panicked scream.