“Why are you here, Steve?” I crossed my arms on my chest, my eyes meeting his. His gaze was like daggers. He said nothing but reached out, his fingers closing firmly around my arm before he began to drag me toward the apartment door.

His grip was a possessive demand, a clear sign he wasn’t here to talk, he was here to assert his control.

“Let go of me!” I struggled, twisting in his grasp. “Stop it, Steve, you're hurting me,” I cried out.

He looked down at his hand on my arm, and ...