Chapter 4 - The Line Between Monster and Protector
Roman moved with a speed that defied his massive size. Before Travis could even turn his torso, Roman closed the distance, grabbed Travis’s knife wrist with his left hand, and twisted it downward with sickening efficiency.
A sharp CRACK echoed through the narrow hallway. Travis shrieked in agony as the knife clattered uselessly onto the hardwood floor.
Roman didn't let go. He drove Travis back against the coat rack, lifting the younger man off his feet by his throat with a single arm. Travis’s face turned deep purple, his boots kicking desperately at the air as he choked, clawing at Roman’s tattooed fingers.
“I gave you until midnight to leave this valley,” Roman whispered, his face inches from Travis’s gasping mouth. His voice was frighteningly smooth, devoid of all human mercy. “I told you what would happen if you ever touched anything in this town again. But you came into this house. You put your hands on her.”
“Roman, stop!” Erin cried out, sliding down the wall and catching her breath. “You'll kill him! Please, not in my house! Lucy is right down the hall!”
At the sound of Lucy’s name, Roman’s knuckles went white, but the red mist in his eyes seemed to fracture. He glanced toward the closed bedroom door, then back down at the terrified man choking in his grip.
With a low growl of pure disgust, Roman hurled Travis out onto the front porch like a sack of garbage. Travis tumbled through the snow, gasping for breath and clutching his broken wrist.
Roman stepped onto the porch and kicked Travis’s side, flipping him onto his stomach. “Get up,” Roman ordered.
Two large men in dark jackets immediately stepped out from the shadows of the tree line. It was Roman’s private security detail; they had followed Travis from the taproom.
“Put him in the back of the car,” Roman commanded coldly. “Drive him to the state police barracks in Montpelier. Hand over the security footage of him breaking into Agnes’s fuel tank and the footage from the taproom. If he ever crosses back into this county, notify me before you notify the sheriff. Understand?”
“Understood, boss,” one of the men grunted, hauling Travis up by his collar and dragging him toward a waiting black sedan.
Roman stood in the biting wind until the car’s taillights vanished into the snowy darkness. When he turned back toward the house, his shoulders sagged. The menacing mob boss was gone, replaced by a man looking battered by the ghosts of his own violent nature.
Erin stood in the doorway, trembling uncontrollably, holding a blanket tightly around her shoulders. She looked at the splintered doorframe, then at Roman’s bruised hands.
“Are you alright?” he asked quietly, keeping a respectful distance of five feet, as if afraid his very presence might contaminate her.
“I'm… I'm fine,” Erin managed to whisper, her teeth chattering from shock. “You… you were following him?”
“I knew he was desperate,” Roman admitted, looking at the snow beneath his boots. “Men like him get reckless when they're cornered. I should have contained him faster. I’m sorry I brought this terror to your doorstep, Erin. I never meant to put you or your girl in danger.”
May you like
Erin looked at him—this terrifying, dangerous man who had just saved her life and had the restraint to stop himself from murder simply because she spoke her daughter's name.
“You didn't bring him here, Roman. His own greed did,” Erin said softly. “Come inside. Your hands are bleeding.”
