Margot’s grip tightened reflexively.
Scout didn’t blink.
“Let. Her. Go.”
Margot’s grip loosened.
“Hands behind your back,” he said. “Now.”
“You can’t?—”
“I said. Now.”
Something in his tone—iron over the edge of collapse—cut through her.
Margot’s hands lifted slowly.
Tessa stepped forward—legs shaky, drug-heavy—but her mind clear as glass.
“My cuffs,” Scout said without lowering the gun. “Right pocket.”
Tessa reached carefully into his pocket and pulled them free.
Her fingers trembled.
Not from fear.
From rage.
From Lauren.
From Sara.
From everything Margot had touched and called care.
Tessa snapped the cuffs shut.
Metal clicked.
Final.
“You don’t get to touch another woman ever again,” Tessa said quietly.
Scout’s weapon never wavered.
The door behind him opened.
Boots. Authority.
Burke stepped in and stopped.
Margot restrained.
Tessa upright.
Scout wounded but steady.
Their eyes met.
