His jaw tightened. The only sign he'd heard me.
My father's struggles grew weaker. His hands fell away from Rhys's arm. Dangled at his sides.
"Please don't." I dragged myself halfway to standing. Pain screamed through my shoulder. My legs shook. "He's not worth it."
Still nothing. My father's eyes started to roll back.
"You'll lose everything." My throat closed around the words. "Please. I need you. Don't—don't leave me alone."
Something flickered behind Rhys's eyes. Some slight shift in the stone mask of his expression.
His hand opened.
My father dropped. Hit the concrete hard. Crumpled. Gasping. Alive.
Rhys stood over him, fists still clenched, breathing hard through his nose. Waiting.
Sirens wailed outside—sharp, piercing, growing louder until they stopped abruptly. Red and blue lights strobed through the hallway entrance. Boots pounded against concrete.
"Police! Nobody move!"
Three officers rushed in with hands on their holsters. Their eyes swept the scene—me against the wall bleeding, my father gasping on the floor, Rhys standing over him like an avenging ghost, Ben slumped near the café entrance with his hand pressed to his jaw.
Jenna hovered behind the officers, pale and shaking. Her voice came out thin and reedy when she spoke.
"I called them. I heard screaming and—I didn't know what else to do."
One officer moved immediately to my father. Another positioned himself between Rhys and everyone else. The third headed straight for me.
"Ma'am, are you hurt? Do you need medical attention?"
I pushed off the wall. My legs held. Barely. Blood dripped from my split lip onto my shirt. My shoulder throbbed with every heartbeat. The side of my face where he'd hit me felt hot and swollen. But I forced myself to stand straight. Forced my voice to come out clear despite how badly I wanted to collapse.
"He violated a restraining order." I pointed at my father with a shaking hand. "He tracked me down. Cornered me in the hallway. Attacked me when I tried to get away."
My father tried to sit up. Coughed. Wheezed. His voice came out rough and damaged.
"That's—that's not—she attacked me. Look at her hands." He gestured weakly at my bloody knuckles. "She's unstable. Always has been. That man—" He pointed at Rhys. "He assaulted me. Tried to kill me."
The officer near me studied my face. My split lip. The bruise already forming on my cheek. The way I held my injured shoulder.
I met his eyes steady. Didn't look away. "I have a caseworker. Marsha Klein. She can confirm everything. The restraining order. The history. All of it." My throat tightened, but I pushed through. "I came here to get away from him. To be safe. He found me anyway."
"She's lying?—"
"Sir, stop talking." The officer nearest my father cut him off. "We'll sort this out at the station."
They pulled my father to his feet. Turned him. Cuffed his wrists behind his back with sharp metallic clicks that echoed through the hallway.
He didn't fight. Didn't resist. Just stared at Rhys with pure, concentrated hatred burning in his eyes. A promise. A threat. A vow that this wasn't finished.
Rhys stared back. Unmoved. Unafraid. Waiting.
They dragged my father toward the exit. His footsteps shuffled against concrete. Fading. Growing distant. Then gone.
The hallway fell silent except for my ragged breathing and the crackle of police radios.
The EMTs arrived with a stretcher and bright assessment eyes that catalogued every visible injury in seconds. The older one, a woman with grey streaks in her ponytail, approached me with practiced gentleness.
