My throat tightens. “Where is my dad?”
Wolf doesn’t look away from Voss. “Back room.”
One of the men disappears down the hall. A door opens. A muffled sound. Then his voice carries back.
“He’s tied up. Breathing.”
My knees go weak.
Wolf’s hand tightens at my waist, keeping me upright. “Breathe, angel.”
Sirens sound outside, getting closer.
Sheriff Morris arrives moments later, voice steady as he steps into the living room. He’s older, solid, eyes sharp.
He takes one look at Voss, then at my wrist.
“Ma’am,” Morris says. “Are you injured?”
“He grabbed me,” I say, and my voice shakes anyway.
Morris nods once. “All right.”
Then he looks up at Voss. “Mr. Voss. Hands behind your back.”
Voss tries to smile. “This is a misunderstanding.”
Morris’s voice stays flat. “Hands behind your back.”
Voss hesitates.
Wolf doesn’t move. He doesn’t have to.
Morris cuffs him. The click is loud in the room.
Relief hits me so hard my eyes sting.
They bring my dad out a minute later. Bruised. Lip split. Wrists red. Eyes smaller than I remember.
He meets my gaze and flinches.
“Evie,” he whispers. “I’m sorry.”
The old part of me tries to step forward.
I hold still.
Wolf’s hand stays at my waist, steady.
I look at my father and feel something hard settle in my chest.
“You did this,” I say quietly.
Dad’s face crumples. “Please.”
I shake my head once. “No more.”
Sheriff Morris clears his throat. “Ma’am, I’ll need your statement.”
