Chapter 104 #22: Move!
Vincent's hand doesn't waver. The gun stays level, pointed straight at David's chest, and the hallway light catches the metal in a way that makes it look colder than it already is. My heart slams against my ribs so hard I feel it in my throat.
“Vincent,” I say, my voice instinctively calm. “What the hell are you doing?”
He doesn't even blink. His eyes stay locked on David. "You think you can just walk back into her life? Show up at our building, touch my wife, and I'm supposed to stand here like it's nothing?"
David doesn’t move. Not a step back. Not a flinch. His head tilts slightly, eyes locked on Vincent’s hand, his posture loose like he’s watching weather roll in rather than a loaded weapon. But he doesn't respond.
“Put the gun down, Vincent.” I say, louder this time.
Vincent’s jaw is clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping. His finger rests dangerously close to the trigger.
“You want to know what I’m doing?” he says. “I’m fixing this.”
“By pulling a gun on my ex-husband on our front porch?” I snap. “Are you insane?!"
He lets out a short, humourless laugh. “Since he came back, everything has gone to hell. Everything. You’ve been distracted, secretive, distant. Now I come home early and find him touching you.”
“We were talking,” I say.
David finally speaks, his voice calm and steady, almost bored. “Lower the gun.”
Vincent’s eyes flick to him, wild. “You don’t get to give me orders.”
“Vincent,” I say again, stepping closer to him slowly. “This is not who you are. Put the gun down and we can talk.”
He doesn’t even look at me. “You always do this,” he says, still staring at David. “You keep protecting him.”
“That’s not what this is.”
“You’re standing between us,” he says. “Right now.”
I glance down and realize he’s right. Without thinking, I’ve shifted closer to David, my body angled protectively in front of him.
I take a slow step forward, palms up. "Vincent, listen to me. Lucy's sick. We were waiting on more tests. I was terrified. David was there when the call came in and he drove me home afterwards. That's it."
Vincent's gaze flicks to me, then snaps back to David, the gun remains steady in his hand. "And you couldn't call me? You couldn't wait for your husband?"
"I was in shock," I say, keeping my voice even. "I needed to get home. I was going to tell you the second I walked through the door."
He swallows hard. "You let him hold you right outside our building."
I don't deny it. There's no point. "I was falling apart. He was there. That’s all it was."
Vincent's eyes narrow. "That's never all it is with him."
Vincent’s finger tightens on the trigger. I step fully in front of David, pressing my back to his chest, blocking Vincent’s line of sight completely.
“If you’re going to shoot,” I say, my voice shaking despite myself, “you’ll have to shoot me first.”
“Nora,” Vincent growls. “Move.”
“No.”
“Get out of the way.”
“No.”
David’s breath hits the back of my neck. “Nora, get out of the way” he murmurs quietly, warning threaded through his tone.
“I said I'm not moving,” I say to David then turn back to Vincent. “And you need to drop that fucking gun. You’re not shooting anyone.”
Vincent takes a step forward, rage radiating off him. “You think I won’t?”
“I think you’ll regret it for the rest of your life,” I say. “I think you’ll destroy everything we have.”
“We?” he repeats bitterly. “You mean what’s left after him? You've already replaced me with him in your head. You’re thinking of him while I’m on top of you!”
Even without turning, I can feel David's eyes on me now. I ignore it, focusing my gaze on my husband.
Vincent's face darkens. "For the last time, Nora. Move."
"No."
"Move!" His voice cracks on the word. He steps forward, reaching with his free hand to push me aside.
David moves so fast I barely see it. One second his hands are at his sides, the next he’s grabbing Vincent’s wrist and twisting hard. The gun clatters to the ground, skidding across the concrete and coming to rest near the curb on the opposite side of the street.
Vincent shouts, stumbling back, but David doesn’t give him time to recover. He drives into him, forcing him down onto the porch with brutal efficiency.
I stumble backward, my heart slamming against my ribs.
The sound of fists hitting flesh is sickening. Vincent swings wildly, fuelled by rage rather than skill. David blocks easily, his movements controlled. Years of violence and mafia training still live in his muscles, even if he pretends they don’t.
“Stop it!” I scream. “Both of you, stop!”
David lands a final blow and pins Vincent to the ground, his knee pressing into Vincent’s chest, his forearm across his throat. Vincent struggles, face red, eyes blazing.
“Get the fuck off me!” Vincent snarls.
“This ends now,” David says quietly. “Point a weapon at Nora ever again, and I promise that will be the last time you have hands to hold one.”
“David,” I say with a lot more calm than I feel. “That’s enough. Leave. Now.”
David's eyes flick to me. He holds for another beat, then releases Vincent and stands, stepping back toward the door.
Vincent scrambles up, coughing, eyes wild.
David looks at me once more. “Lock your doors,” he says. “Call me if you need anything.”
Then he turns and walks away, disappearing down the steps without another word.
The second it's shut, I turn on Vincent.
My hand flies before I can stop it and a slap cracks across his face, loud in the sudden quiet. His head snaps to the side, cheek instantly red.
He touches his face, stunned.
"Where the hell did you even get a gun?!" I demand, my voice shaking with fury. "And what would've happened if you'd pulled that trigger? If you'd killed someone right on our front porch? Or worse... what if Lucy had walked out and seen her father pointing a gun at someone?!"
"I–" he starts, then stops. "I bought it after the break-in. Thought it would keep us safe."
"Safe?" I laugh, the sound bitter. "You just pointed it at David's face. At my face! You could've killed someone... and then what? You'd be in prison, Lucy would grow up without a father, and I'd be the one explaining why her daddy shot a man in our hallway."
Vincent runs a hand over his face. "I wasn't actually going to shoot."
"You don't fucking know that." My voice rises. "You were angry. People do stupid things when they're angry. And you almost did the stupidest thing of all."
He steps forward, reaching a hand towards me. "Nora, I'm sorry. I didn't mean–"
I back away. "Don't fucking touch me."
He freezes.
I take a breath, trying to steady myself. "The doctor said Lucy's bone marrow isn't producing enough blood cells. Red cells, white cells, platelets... everything's low. They're running more tests. Possibly a biopsy. Possibly transfusions. Possibly... worse. And on top of that, someone broke into our home. Someone's threatening us over information from my father's old life. And you think this is the time to pull a gun on my ex-husband because you're jealous?!"
Vincent's face crumples. "I didn't know about Lucy. I didn't know any of it."
"You didn't ask," I snap. "You saw him and lost it. That's the problem, Vincent. Every time he shows up, you lose your mind. And I can't deal with that right now. I can't deal with your jealousy on top of everything else."
He reaches for me again. "I'm sorry. Let me–"
"No!” I snap, pulling away. “You lost your right to ever touch me again the moment you pointed a gun to my face.”
I turn and go inside, slamming the door behind me.
My legs carry me down the hallway on autopilot. Lucy’s bedroom door is slightly open, warm light spilling into the corridor. I push it open and slip onto the bed beside her, careful not to wake her, and pull her close. Her small body is warm against mine, her breathing soft and even. I bury my face in her hair and let the tears come silently.
A few minutes later, I feel her stir.
"Mommy?" Her voice is sleepy and confused.
"I'm here, baby," I whisper, kissing her forehead. "Go back to sleep."
"Why are you crying?"
I wipe my eyes quickly. "It's nothing. Just a long day. Mommy's tired."
She snuggles closer, her small hand finding mine. "Did the big scary man visit you too?"
My blood turns to ice. I pull back just enough to look at her face. "What big scary man, sweetheart?"
She rubs her eyes with her fist. "At school during recess. He called me over to the fence and gave me a lollipop. He said you were playing hide and seek with some information he needs and that if you don't give it to him soon, he'll come over to our house for a playdate and get it himself."
The room spins. I force my voice to stay calm. "What did he look like, Lucy?"
She shrugs, already drifting back to sleep. "Big and scary. Sort of like the bad guys in my dragon book."
I hold her tighter, my heart hammering in my chest, fury clawing its way into my bones.
Someone threatened my daughter. At her school.
I’m done letting all these men do however they like with mine and my daughter’s lives. It’s time to take matters into my own hands.