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“Detective,” a woman barked. “That’s enough.” Her voice was short and sharp, and like a whip cracking, it startled Ezra.
My hands curled around the lapels of his jacket. I didn’t let him get far when he pulled away. His eyes were glassy when he blinked them open, regret filling them. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“This.” He snapped a handcuff around my wrist and stepped back, breaking my hold on him. “Zali Rose Stephens, you’re under arrest.”
I stood stock-still, my brain going offline as he shifted to walk around behind me and gently pull my arms back. He locked the cuff around my other wrist, and like coming up from underwater, the scene around me snapped back into focus, the sounds of a scuffle filling my ears.
Shouts sounded. Urgent, angry words. Someone screaming like a wild animal.
Guns were drawn.
“Get down, now!” was yelled.
“Leave her alone,” Flynn screamed.
I spun around, and my world shattered. Flynn was lying facedown on the concrete floor, an officer’s knee pinning his shoulders down as another wrestled a set of cuffs onto his wrists. With his hands bound, he stopped fighting, going lax in their arms.
Tears sprang to my eyes, my heart breaking into a million pieces.
Not my Flynn.
The officer lifted his knee, and he touched Flynn’s shoulder, saying something too low for me to hear. Flynn kicked his foot out, slamming it against the concrete. He roared in frustration.
The commotion in the opposite direction caught my eye. Ryder was between two huge officers. They had him off the ground.
He kicked out.
Tried to break free of their grip.
Shouted.
Still wrestling them even while pinned, he kicked out again, aiming for a knee.
The officer’s leg buckled, his knee hitting the ground. A shout of pain.
Ry whirled around with his fist cocked as the other officer reached for something at his belt.
“Ry,” I screamed in warning.
Another officer stepped closer, her gun raised. “Freeze.” She aimed squarely at his chest. Point-blank range.
“Ryder, no!” I screeched, lurching forward as I tried to get to him. I’d take that bullet myself before I let him get hurt. “Please, stop. Don’t hurt him.”
Detective Fraser caught me in his arms, hugging me from behind and stopping me in my tracks. I fought him, trying to get loose. Desperate, I twisted and turned, slamming my head back.
But he held me tighter.
“Please, stop them,” I begged, my voice hitching as a sob tore from my throat. Tears streamed down my face, my shattered heart stomped on and left broken and bleeding on the floor.
“They’re doing their jobs, Zali.” His voice was even, radiating a ghostly calm.
“Ryder, please don’t fight them,” I cried. But my voice was broken, my words no louder than a whisper. “Please.”
I couldn’t look. I couldn’t watch them kill him. I turned, burying my face in Ezra’s chest. “Please stop him.”
“Ry,” Ezra barked. “Stop.”
