Blanche's POV
I turned away, refusing to meet Vincent's gaze. "I don't owe you anything," I said, my voice ice-cold. "You don't get to know everything about me."
Even as the harsh words left my lips, something fragile stirred inside my chest.
Vincent wouldn't back down. His hand reached for my arm, desperate and determined.
The moment his fingers grazed my skin, pain shot through me. I couldn't hide the wince that twisted my features.
Vincent's face went white. He grabbed my hand, and when he saw the dark bruises painting my arm, his eyes blazed red with something raw and devastating.
All his anger crumbled away, replaced by an ache that seemed to consume him whole.
Vincent cradled my hand like it might shatter, silent tears tracking down his cheeks.
I tried to pull away, but seeing him cry made my heart squeeze painfully.
"You..." The word barely escaped my throat.
His grip stayed gentle as he whispered, "Just sleep. I'm not going anywhere."
