The Night My Husband Was Away - Chapter 4: Chapter 4

The evening shadows stretched long as I trudged home, the sky deepening to bruised purple. My feet carried me to the window almost against my will, where I peered down through the glass like a thief in my own home.
The rhythmic clang of metal on wood floated up from below - too steady for actual construction, too deliberate to be accidental. Was this Vincent's twisted version of Morse code? My traitorous pulse fluttered at the thought, that hungry look of his flashing behind my eyelids.
Then - a sickening thud. A pained grunt. My breath hitched before I could stop it.
Before reason could catch up, I found myself barefoot in the courtyard, my nightgown whispering against my legs. Moonlight turned scattered lumber and tools into ghostly sculptures. The glow from Vincent's half-open door painted an amber path straight to where he sat sprawled on the steps, working his ankle with rough fingers.
"Took a wrong step," he said without looking up, though the corner of his mouth curled. His voice was all gravel and smoke. "Didn't think my little performance would actually work."
I turned to bolt, but his hand shot out - warm fingers circling my wrist like a manacle. One sharp tug and I was flush against him, every ridge of muscle imprinting through thin cotton. His scent - tobacco and something darker - filled my lungs as I made a token struggle.
"Relax," he rumbled against my temple, calloused thumb tracing my jawline. The night air did nothing to cool the fire he lit with just a touch.
Just as his lips brushed mine-
"Sophia?" Daniel's voice cracked through the night like a gunshot.
I recoiled, but Vincent caught me around the waist, his chuckle vibrating against my back. "Run now," he whispered, teeth grazing my ear, "but we both know you'll come back."