His Innocent Flower, My Slaughterhouse

Used condoms were strewn by the bedside.

My stomach churned violently, and I threw up on the spot.

From outside the door, I heard Vincent's voice.

"How did it go? Did you get the evidence?"

"We got it, Don, but... Isn't Isabella pregnant? Isn't this going too far?"

"What are you trying to say? Remember who holds your leash."

"She was disobedient. She needed to be taught a lesson."

"Have men watch Ava. If Isabella shows up again, leak these photos to her father's old crew."

"Yes, Don."

My nails dug sharply into my palms, the familiar pain a desperate anchor to my sanity.

A second before he pushed the door open, I fell back onto the bed, pretending to have just woken up.

His expression changed in an instant, the mask of gentle concern sliding back into place.

"How are you? Are you okay?"

"We caught the guy who did it."

"I won't let anyone who dares touch you get away with it."

My eyes burned with unshed tears as I stared straight at him.

Vincent frowned.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Don't worry, I know you. I left him alive for you. You can deal with him yourself."

"Let's go. He doesn't have much time."

He pulled me into his arms.

His embrace was as warm as ever.

But my whole body felt like ice.

In the car, he held my hand tightly, his face a perfect picture of sincere guilt.

"I'm sorry. I failed to protect you."

"I promise, it won't happen again."

Seeing my silence, he kissed my forehead.

"Bella, you're my life."

"Don't be like this. You're scaring me."

I closed my eyes, not wanting to hear another word.

The car soon arrived at a slaughterhouse on the outskirts of the city.

The man was barely breathing.

He looked at me with the eyes of a stranger.

But when he saw Vincent, his eyes blazed with hatred, and he lunged like a wild animal.

"You'll die like a dog!"

Vincent kicked him squarely in the chest.

"You dare touch my woman, and then you dare threaten me."

"Looks like you haven't learned your lesson."

A dagger appeared in Vincent's hand, and the man started cursing wildly.

"Who touched your woman? You're fucking insane!"

"Vincent Costello, you—"

He never finished the sentence. Vincent’s gun was already at his forehead.

Turning to face me, he curved his lips into a smile.

"Sorry. He hurt you, and I got angry. I couldn't help myself."

He passed the gun into my hand, his own hands guiding mine, just like he used to.

He wrapped my hand around the cold steel, his fingers forcing mine to tighten on the grip.

I don't know how many times I pulled the trigger, not until the floor was slick with his blood.

Every shot felt like it was hitting my own heart.

Leaving me a bloody, mangled mess.

As we walked out of the slaughterhouse, he held me tight under the setting sun.

"Bella, stop acting out."

"You know you're special to me."

"As long as you're obedient, I'll always be by your side."