Vincent watched the cab vanish around the corner before heading back into the house.
Lucia was still stretched across the couch when he walked into the living room, eyes glued to her show.
She barely glanced up when she heard him come in. "Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in."
Vincent crossed the room in two quick strides and collapsed onto the couch, looking completely drained.
The cut across his chest was still bothering him, but he'd been running around all day anyway.
After settling in, Vincent slowly pulled up his shirt to examine the wound. Blood had already seeped through the fresh bandage.
Lucia shifted closer and took one look at his injury, her chest tightening with concern. He never learns—if he wants to protect everyone else, maybe he should start with himself. "You know," she said quietly, "if keeping the people you love safe matters so much, shouldn't you be taking care of yourself first?"
