Bound by my blood

Chapter twenty-six

Vince carries me into the house as if I'm on the brink of death, despite the fact that it's just my arm that's injured. His grip is unyielding, his jaw clenched so tightly I swear his teeth might crack under the pressure. He hasn't spoken to me since we left the hospital—though, to be fair, we never needed to go there in the first place. The injury wasn't serious. A deep cut, yes, but nothing life-threatening. Certainly not worth the storm cloud that's been hovering over Vince's head.

The front door swings open, and before I can fully process it, Angelo comes rushing out of the kitchen, his face contorted with panic.

I roll my eyes. "Oh, for fuck's sake, that's enough. I'm fine! It's literally just a small cut," I huff, shifting in Vince's arms, trying—and succeeding—to free myself.

Vince doesn't acknowledge my protests, nor does he spare Angelo a glance as he brushes past him. He's a wall of silence, his entire body radiating tension.

Angelo sighs, running a hand through his hair, "Are you sure you're okay? Vincenzo didn't say much over the phone."

I nod stiffly and lift my bandaged arm, the thick white gauze now wrapped around it like an unnecessary badge of honour. Vince's gaze locks onto it, his expression unreadable—except for the guilt swirling beneath the surface, dark and oppressive. But this wasn't his fault. He couldn't have protected me and fought off everyone on his own.

Without a word, he turns on his heel and storms toward his office.

Angelo lets out another sigh, shaking his head. "Here we go," he mutters before casting me a small, reassuring smile and following after him.

I remain by the door for a beat, listening. It doesn't take long before the sound of Vince's fury erupts from behind the office walls. A violent crash echoes through the hallway, followed by another. I can hear his heavy, uneven breathing, the raw edge of his rage barely contained.

Cautiously, I push the door open just enough to peek inside.

Angelo sits calmly on the leather sofa, seemingly unbothered by the storm raging in front of him. Vince, on the other hand, is a man possessed. His fists clench and unclench at his sides, his chest heaving as though the air around him is suffocating.

"I WILL MURDER THEM!" he roars, his voice a force of nature. "SHE IS MINE!"

Angelo exhales. "You need to calm down."

"CALM DOWN?" Vince's head snaps toward him, his entire body trembling with barely restrained fury. "THEY WANT HER! THEY WANT TO KILL HER BECAUSE OF ME!"

A chill snakes down my spine. Who exactly wants me? And why does he sound so certain? I've never been safe—not really. Being the daughter of Regina and Leonidas Castillo meant growing up in the shadow of countless enemies. But Vince is acting like something has changed. Like I'm in more danger now than ever.

I push the door open further, stepping inside.

His head whips toward me. His eyes—normally pools of dark intensity—are ice-cold, unreadable, dangerous. A vein pulses in his neck, his rage a living, breathing entity.

"Get the fuck out!" he bellows, stalking toward me like a predator.

Instinct kicks in before logic. I take a step back. Fear claws its way up my throat, the air between us crackling with an unspoken warning. The hairs on my neck stand on end, and a small voice inside my head screams at me to run.

Tears sting my eyes. My Vince isn't in front of me right now. This man, this version of him—this is someone I don't recognize.

So I do the only thing I can.