***
Inside the other SUV, Jennifer tried to keep track of turns, of time, of anything that could help her. But the men were deliberate — doubling back, weaving through side streets, keeping her disoriented. Every time she thought they were heading inland, the driver would swing them back toward the coastline.
Her throat ached from holding back another scream. She forced herself to listen instead, to cling to fragments of their whispered exchanges.
"…Voss wants her alive…"
"…don't bruise her too much…"
"…boss says she'll learn tonight what happens when you cross him."
Her stomach turned. Voss. Always the shadow, the predator circling closer.
Jennifer clenched her fists, nails biting her palms. Fear throbbed through her veins, but beneath it — somewhere buried deep — was something sharper. Vincent will come. He has to.
***
The hunt began.
Vincent's convoy tore through the city, headlights slicing the dark. His phone lit with incoming feeds — traffic cams, satellite pings, intercepted police chatter. Every piece of data was funneled into his mind like fire on dry grass.
"Northbound. Two SUVs. Window tint. No plates." Carlos relayed from the passenger seat, eyes locked on the screen.
Vincent's jaw tightened. "They won't make it far."
He called in another favor — a name that made Carlos glance at him sideways, uneasy. Vincent didn't care. Tonight, there were no lines. No rules. Only Jennifer.
And somewhere out there, in the dark, Voss was smiling.
***
The convoy of two SUVs thundered down the coastline road, their engines snarling against the night. Inside the first, Jennifer sat frozen, her pulse thudding like a war drum. The waves that had once calmed her now seemed like an audience to her terror, crashing endlessly as if mocking her helplessness.
The man in the passenger seat reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a pistol. He checked the chamber with the casual grace of someone who had done it too many times. The sound of the slide snapping back made Jennifer flinch.
"You'll be quiet when we get there," he said without even looking at her. "Boss doesn't like noise."
Her throat went dry. She thought of Vincent — his voice, the heat in his eyes when he told her he'd bury Voss. That memory was the only thread holding her together.
But threads snap under enough weight.
***
Vincent's SUV sliced through traffic like a blade. His men followed in a staggered formation, radio chatter filling the air with clipped updates.
"North pier — traffic cam caught two SUVs, black, tinted. Eastbound now."
"Copy. Units two and three rerouting."
Vincent leaned forward, eyes burning into the road. His hand drummed against the steering wheel, not with nerves — but with the need for violence. Every second Jennifer was in their hands was another second of torture for him.
He saw her in flashes — her smile at the dinner, the way her voice trembled when she thanked him, the fragile courage in her eyes. The image of her now, trapped, terrified, twisted something inside him so deep it felt like bone splintering.
Carlos shifted uneasily beside him. "Ser… you know Voss won't make this simple."
Vincent's jaw locked. "Then I'll make it simple for him. He breathes tonight only if I allow it."
The radio crackled again. "Visual confirmation — two SUVs on Marina bypass."
Vincent slammed his foot down. The engine roared. "Intercept."
Jennifer's captors didn't notice the shift in the air at first. The driver was humming, tapping the wheel, as if the night belonged to him. But then headlights flared in the rearview — not one, but three, gaining fast.
The passenger leaned forward. "We've got company."
The driver cursed, jerking the wheel to swerve. The SUVs split, one turning off toward an industrial strip, the other gunning straight for the freeway.
Jennifer's breath hitched. The car jolted so hard she was thrown against the seatbelt. A cruel hand clamped her shoulder, shoving her back into place.
"Don't move, princess."
Vincent chose without hesitation. His SUV veered left, following the one Jennifer was in. The others peeled off after the decoy.
Carlos gripped the dash. "That's them."
Vincent's lips pulled into something that wasn't quite a smile — too sharp, too cold. "Good."
He shifted gears. The distance shrank.
The chase ignited like fire in the dark.
The SUVs barreled through the marina road, tires screeching, engines screaming. Jennifer's captors were shouting now, barking at each other over the chaos. She could see the headlights behind them, closer with every breath.
The passenger pulled his pistol, twisting to aim out the window. "Take out their tires!" the driver yelled.
Gunfire cracked. Glass shattered in Vincent's SUV. Carlos ducked, swearing. But Vincent didn't flinch. He drove faster, weaving with precision, the kind of control born from a man who had long ago made peace with death.
He was gaining.
Jennifer's heart hammered. Through the rear window, she saw him — his face lit by the dash, hard as stone, eyes like fire. For the first time since being dragged into the SUV, she felt air fill her lungs.
Vincent had found her.
The convoy tore through the night like wolves, but Vincent was the predator they hadn't planned for. His SUV surged forward, cutting the distance with terrifying inevitability.
Carlos clung to the door as bullets ricocheted off their hood. Sparks flew, the windshield starred, but Vincent's hands stayed steady on the wheel. He had hunted men before. He had driven with blood in his mouth and death in his rearview. Tonight, there was nothing new about violence — except that Jennifer was at the center of it.
And for her, he would burn the world.
The passenger in Jennifer's SUV leaned further out of the window, firing again. Each muzzle flash lit his scarred face, his teeth bared like an animal. Jennifer shrank into the seat, her arms around herself, willing the bullets not to find Vincent.
"Hit him harder!" the driver shouted. He yanked the wheel, slamming into Vincent's SUV. Metal shrieked against metal. The world jolted. Jennifer screamed.
Vincent didn't flinch. His jaw flexed, his knuckles whitening as he forced his SUV back into line. Rage surged through him like jet fuel. He slammed the accelerator, nosing forward, ramming the back of their SUV once, twice — harder each time.
The passenger nearly dropped his weapon. "Shit, he's gonna flip us!"
The driver cursed, wrenching the wheel to steady them. But Vincent was merciless. He drove like a man possessed, striking their rear bumper with precise, bone-rattling blows.
Carlos braced himself. "Ser, you'll kill her if you—"
"She trusts me," Vincent cut him off, voice dark as thunder.
Jennifer clung to the seatbelt, her breath ragged, her eyes wide. For a moment, she caught his silhouette in the headlights — relentless, unbreakable, burning for her. Her terror twisted into something else: a fragile, dangerous thread of belief.
The fight escalated. One of Voss's men leaned out with a shotgun, the barrel gleaming.
Carlos's voice snapped. "Ser, left!"
Vincent jerked the wheel just as the blast tore through the air. Pellets ripped into the side of his SUV, shredding the mirror. Shards of glass rained over him, nicking his face. Blood beaded on his cheek, warm and sharp.
His response was immediate. He surged forward, slamming his bumper against theirs again — harder. This time the SUV fishtailed, tires screeching, the driver fighting to keep control.
"Hold her!" the passenger barked, grabbing Jennifer's arm as she was thrown sideways. She fought against him, nails clawing, desperation tearing through her fear.
"Don't touch me!" she screamed, her voice breaking.
The man backhanded her. Her head snapped to the side, cheek stinging. Tears blurred her vision, but through them she saw Vincent closing in — closer, closer.
Vincent's rage detonated. He floored the gas, the engine roaring like a beast unleashed. He rammed the SUV with brutal precision, sending it careening toward the guardrail. Metal screamed as sparks erupted, tires squealing.
The vehicle swerved violently, scraping against the barrier. Jennifer was thrown against the window, breath stolen from her lungs.
The driver fought to recover, snarling curses. But Vincent was relentless. Another hit. Another. The SUV bucked under the assault.
And then — the sound. Tires bursting. The SUV skidded, spun, screeched.
"Brace!" Carlos shouted.
Vincent's eyes were fixed, unblinking, locked on Jennifer through the chaos.
The SUV slammed into a light pole with a bone-shaking crash. Glass shattered. Metal crumpled. The world filled with smoke and the acrid stink of gasoline.
***
Jennifer's ears rang. Her vision blurred. The world tilted sideways. The passenger groaned, pinned against the dashboard, blood pouring from a gash in his forehead. The driver fumbled for his gun, hand slick with blood.
Jennifer's heart stopped when she saw him lift the weapon.
And then Vincent was there.
The driver barely turned before the door was ripped open. Vincent's hand closed around his throat, dragging him out like a rag doll. The man gasped, kicked, choked. Vincent's face was carved from stone, his eyes bottomless.
"You touched her," Vincent growled, his voice low, lethal.
With a single twist, a sickening crack filled the night. The man went limp, collapsing to the ground like discarded trash.
Jennifer's breath caught. She had never seen anyone move like that, with such terrifying efficiency. This wasn't the man who had handed her a rose in a candlelit garden. This was something else entirely — a shadow forged from violence.
Her savior. Her monster. Both at once.
He turned, wrenched the back door open. Jennifer flinched instinctively, heart hammering. But his hand softened as it reached for her.
"Jennifer," he said, voice rough with fury and relief all tangled together.
She couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Tears stung her eyes.
He leaned closer, hand brushing her arm. "You're safe now."
But she wasn't sure.
Not with the body on the ground. Not with blood staining his cheek. Not with the way his chest rose and fell like a beast barely caged.
She let him pull her out, but her legs trembled beneath her. His arm wrapped around her, steady, unyielding. For the first time since she'd met him, she felt relief crash into her like a wave.
And yet—horror curled its fingers around her heart.
Because in that moment she realized the truth.
Vincent would kill for her.
And he had.
***
From the shadows of the dock, another SUV idled. A figure stepped out — tall, composed, his coat billowing in the night wind. Grim Voss.
He watched the carnage with calm detachment, his lips curving into a slow, venomous smile. His eyes locked with Vincent's across the chaos, two predators meeting in the dark.
Then he tipped his head in mocking salute, slipped back into the SUV, and vanished into the night.
Vincent's grip on Jennifer tightened, his body rigid with fury. She felt his heartbeat thundering against her.
She whispered his name, but he didn't hear her. His eyes were still on the horizon where Voss had disappeared, burning with a promise of blood.
The night smelled of smoke, metal, and death. The crash site still hissed with the sound of a broken radiator, the hiss of gasoline dripping onto asphalt. In the distance, sirens wailed faintly, too far to matter yet.
Vincent didn't let go of Jennifer. His arm was locked around her waist, his palm firm against her side as if releasing her meant losing her all over again. She could feel the heat of him, the hard press of his body trembling faintly — not from exhaustion, but from rage barely restrained.
Carlos moved swiftly, his face grave as he checked the unconscious men strewn around the wreck. One was still alive, groaning. Without hesitation, Carlos bent low, pressing a hand to the man's throat until the sound cut off. His eyes flicked up once to Vincent — no questions, no hesitation. Clean. Silent.
Jennifer shivered. This wasn't rescue. This was war. And she was in the middle of it.
"Come," Vincent murmured against her temple. His voice was hoarse, stripped raw, but softer than the way he'd spoken to his enemies. "We're leaving."
She didn't argue. Her legs barely worked, but he lifted her as though she weighed nothing. Her cheek pressed against his chest. The silk of his shirt was damp with blood and sweat, his heartbeat hammering so hard it rattled her bones.
She wanted to say something, anything — but her throat burned. Her voice wouldn't obey. So she closed her eyes, letting herself be carried.
The SUV Carlos pulled up wasn't the one they'd come in. It was black, spotless, its engine low and purring. Vincent set her gently inside, buckled her seatbelt himself, his fingers brushing her collarbone. His touch lingered for the smallest fraction too long, then pulled away.
He circled to the other side and slid in beside her. Not Carlos. Not the driver's seat. He wanted to stay close.
Jennifer sat rigid, her hands folded tight in her lap. She could still see the way he had broken that man's neck, hear the sickening crack. She could still feel the way his arm had crushed around her like steel.
Her savior. Her monster. The words repeated, echoing through her.
The SUV glided away, the city lights bleeding past in streaks of gold and red. Silence pressed thickly inside.
At last, Jennifer's voice scraped out, fragile. "You…you killed him."
Vincent didn't look at her. His jaw clenched, shadow cutting hard across his cheekbones. "He put his hands on you."
The words were simple, but they vibrated with something deeper — something primal, feral. As though that alone had sealed the man's fate.
Jennifer swallowed hard, staring down at her hands. Part of her wanted to recoil. Part of her wanted to reach for him. The war inside her left her trembling.
Carlos cleared his throat from the front seat, his voice careful. "Ser, the police—"
"Handled," Vincent snapped. Then, softer, almost to himself: "No one touches her."
The rest of the drive was silence, heavy as lead. Jennifer kept stealing glances at him — the cut on his cheek still bleeding faintly, the bruises rising on his knuckles, the way his shirt clung to him with sweat and blood.
He looked like a man carved from violence. But when his eyes flicked to hers, just once, she saw something else buried in the depths. Not just fury. Fear.
Fear of losing her.
Back at the estate, the night swallowed them whole. The mansion rose out of the darkness like a fortress, lights glowing faintly in the windows. The gates closed behind them with a heavy clang, sealing the world out.
Vincent didn't wait for Carlos to open her door. He was already there, lifting her gently out, as though she were made of glass.
Jennifer tried to find her footing, but her knees buckled. His arm caught her before she fell. Their eyes met, close, too close.
For a moment, the world vanished. No wreck, no blood, no Grim Voss. Just his breath mingling with hers, his eyes burning into her soul.
But then she remembered the crack of bones, the lifeless body crumpling to the ground. She tore her gaze away, shivering.
"I…I need to lie down," she whispered.
Vincent nodded once, his jaw tight. "I'll take you."
And he did.
Up the grand staircase, past portraits of men who had built empires on shadows, down the long marble corridor that smelled faintly of polished oak and roses. His hand never left her back, steadying her, guiding her.
When they reached her door, silence stretched between them again. His hand lingered on the knob, his body too close behind her.
Jennifer turned, searching his face. He looked like a man standing at the edge of a cliff, ready to leap but chained by something unseen.
Her lips parted, but no words came.
He bent slightly, close enough that she could feel the heat of him, the scent of blood and coffee still clinging to him. His voice was low, dangerous, but not to her. "I won't let him touch you again."
Her chest ached. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to fear him. Both lived inside her at once.
She whispered, "Goodnight," before her courage could falter, and slipped inside, closing the door between them.
On the other side, Vincent stood motionless, his fist curling at his side, his jaw grinding. His shadow stretched long across the marble, dark and unyielding.
And though Jennifer lay against the door, heart racing, eyes wet, one truth echoed in both of them:
This was only the beginning.