Before heading inside, I try calling her one last time. When it goes straight to voicemail again, I hang up, exhale sharply, and make my way towards her apartment.What the hell is going on, Mila?
As I climb the stairs to the second floor, I focus on any sounds that might hint something is wrong—someone yelling, screaming, or household items breaking. But all I hear are muffled voices and the distant sound of televisions playing behind closed doors.
When I reach the door to Mila’s apartment, I press my ear against it, listening carefully for any sign of movement or indication that someone is inside. But all I’m met with is silence.
I curl my knuckles against the door and knock three times, waiting a few minutes before knocking again.When there’s still no response, I start to assume the place is empty. I turn to leave, but then suddenly, the door creaks open slightly.
To my surprise, Dean’s face appears in the narrow gap, the door almost closed, blocking my view and barring me from stepping inside.His eyes widen when he sees me, as if I’m the last person he expected to see, and quickly pulls the door closer against his side. He looks frazzled, his hair disheveled, and his eyes are raw with redness and exhaustion. He looks like he’s been through hell and back.
“What do you want?” he grumbles, his words clipped and tense.
“Where’s Mila?”
“She’s asleep,” he hisses, clearly annoyed by my intrusion. “She’s not feeling well, so she took an Advil and went for a nap.”
That’s total bullshit. Mila would never miss a shift without notifying me first. This prick is hiding something. I can feel it deep in my bones.
“Can you get her for me? I need to see if she’s okay,” I say, keeping my tone calm, even though inside I’m a heartbeat away from kicking the door down.
He glances briefly over his shoulder at something, then turns back to face me, shaking his head. “She’s asleep. I’m not going to wake her.”
“Dean, you’d better get Mila out here right now, or I’ll bust through this fucking door whether you like it or not. So, what’s it going to be?”
He swallows hard, a flicker of fear crossing his eyes. “I told you she—”
I don’t give him the chance to finish. I storm through the door with such force that it slams open, knocking him back a step.
My eyes immediately find Mila, struggling to sit up on the couch, her expression dazed and confused. The moment she sees me, her eyes widen, brimming with tears that spill over—a raw, overwhelming relief written across her face.
I move towards her, but pause when I finally take in the ice pack beside her, angry red bruises and scratch marks all around her cheek, neck and jaw, swollen lips, and dark circles under watery, bloodshot eyes.
I’m no expert, but after all my years in the police force, I recognise that look instantly.
It’s the unmistakable signs of a struggle... Of someone being violently choked.
The angry marks, the disheveled and disoriented state, the shaking—it’s all there. And there’s only one person in this room who’s responsible for all of that. My fists clench at my sides, my teeth grinding together so hard they feel seconds away from shattering. It takes every ounce of strength inside me to fight the urge to end him.
I slowly turn to face Dean, and the arsehole has the nerve to lift his chin, feigning confidence, as if he’s not the least bit afraid. But he should be.That you definitely should be.
“I’d normally ask what happened here.” I fix him with a cold, steely glare before gesturing towards Mila, who sits silently onthe couch, watching. “But one look at her tells me everything I need to know.”
He shrugs, as if completely unfazed by the horrific sight of his girlfriend. That single act of indifference is all it takes to set me off. I barrel into him with full force, sending us both crashing to the ground. In seconds, I’m on top of him, my forearm pressing down hard against his neck, trapping him on the floor.
Dean thrashes violently beneath me, swiping and kicking with everything he’s got, but I barely move an inch.
“Listen here you fucking coward,” I growl into his face, my voice seething with unrestrained fury. “You think that hurting women makes you tough? Makes you feel in control, huh? Well, guess what, you piece of filthy shit. You’re about to learn real quick just how far that mindset will get you.”
In an instant my fist strikes his stomach, the impact hard enough to wind him, while my other arm tightens against his neck. A strangled grunt escapes his throat, and before he can even draw another breath, my fist slams down again for a second brutal blow.
When I feel him limp beneath me, I stand and grab the collar of his hoodie, dragging him across the floor towards the door. He groans, likely from the pain in his abdomen and neck, but I ignore it. I yank him roughly to his feet, not caring that he’s injured. As soon as he’s upright, I shove him hard out of the apartment, his body slamming against the wall across the hall. He lets out another agonised groan as he crumples to the floor in a heap.
When he makes no move to get up, I walk over to him, kneeling down until we’re face-to-face. I look him dead in the eyes, and smirk. “Not so tough and powerful now that you’re fighting someone your own size, huh?”
He clutches his stomach, groaning, but doesn’t respond.Smart choice!
“You want to know something, Dean? I knew from the start I couldn’t trust you with Mila. So, I did a little digging on you.”
His eyes flicker with a hint of panic, widening just enough to betray his composure, yet he still says nothing, so I continue.
