Mark stood frozen in the doorway. Pale morning light streamed in through a crack behind him, casting a long shadow that fell directly onto the dull floor.
His sharp gaze immediately took in the chaotic scene inside the cramped room. Near the tip of his shiny leather shoes, a small white pill lay on the floor—flung far out of reach.
Mark's gaze shifted to Seren. The woman was curled up at the edge of the bed, her shoulders shaking violently. Her right hand was clutching her left wrist, which was now beginning to swell and turn red. Mark could see old bruises now layered with fresh, painfully visible contusions.
Mark's chest tightened. A sense of unease crept into his gut as he watched Seren whimper silently. But just before that feeling could turn into empathy, his ego quickly erected a defensive wall. He didn't like being disturbed this early in the morning. He hated seeing chaos in his own home, especially when it involved a woman he believed only brought trouble.
