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Maybe I won’t feel broken.
His lips part, and he lifts his free hand to my cheek, his palm barely making contact before he’s ripped away by two men in black SWAT style uniforms.Armed cops.They grab his arms, disarming him and pulling him away from me.
“Stop!” I shout, but I can’t do anything. “Stop!”
No one is listening.
Blue and red flashing lights make it hard to see. Stinging my eyes. And the sounds of sirens and screeching tires ringing in my ears as the yard fills with squad cars.
“Stop!” My voice grows hoarse as hands appear and take hold of my arms, pulling me in the other direction.
Away from him.
“We’re police officers. You’re safe. You’re safe.”
Why are they saying that? Why are they taking me away from him? I was never in any danger. It’s Dax. He would never hurt me.
I fight against the hands to get to him. He’s thrashing around, trying to fight off the officers as he calls to me. Two more join in to overpower him.
“Rose!”
I pull as hard as I can, trying to get to him.
“Don’t take him. He hasn’t done anything wrong. Get your hands off him!” I scream and I fight as hard as I can while Dax does the same.
Then the stranger with the gun, the one who shot Julian’s men walks over to Dax and says something to him. And it’s like a light turns off. Dax’s chest caves in on itself and he stares at me.
“What’s wrong? Dax!” I struggle to try to get to him, but he turns his head and lets the officers push him down into a waiting squad car. “Dax!” My chest burns as my body is stripped of oxygen from all my screaming.
I gulp in deep breaths as I’m pulled further away and over to the back of an ambulance where I can no longer see him.
“We’ll get you checked over. Your wrists need attention.”
“Where are they taking him?”
A female medic begins checking me over while one of the officers still holding onto me says, “He’s been arrested.”
The medic smiles at me kindly as the other officer cuts the tie behind my back, and I bring my bloodied wrists forward.I could make a run for it.The officer who’s still holding me tightens their grip on my upper arm as if reading my thoughts.
“But he’s done nothing wrong.”
The medic extends one of my arms and examines my wrist. It should hurt.
But I feel nothing.
“He hasn’t done anything wrong,” I repeat.
But no one is listening.
“Tell us again about what happened when you went to New York?”
“I’ve already told you.” I drop my head into my hands, exasperated, as the officer repeats the same question.
Jasmin places a fresh cup of coffee down on the table and wraps an arm around my shoulders as she sits next to me on the sofa in the cottage’s living room.
“She’s told you already. My brother’s innocent. He was only pretending to work for Julian Young to get evidence to use against him. You should be dealing with him, not wasting your time here. He’s the real criminal.”
“We’re aware of Mr. Young’s business he was running, and that’s being dealt with.”
