Chapter 7 - The Final Confrontation
Julian reached the top of the stairs, raising the crowbar. I stepped backward, bracing myself for a fight. I was a surgeon; I knew anatomy, and I knew exactly where to strike to incapacitate a man.
But before he could swing, the front door burst open.
Evan rushed in, completely drenched in rain, holding a heavy Maglite flashlight. “Get away from her!” Evan bellowed, taking the stairs two at a time.
Julian spun around, swinging the crowbar at Evan. The metal connected with Evan’s shoulder with a sickening thud, but Evan barely flinched. With a primal roar, Evan tackled Julian to the floor, pinning him down and twisting his arm behind his back until Julian dropped the weapon, screaming in pain.
Sirens wailed in the distance, growing rapidly louder until the flashing red and blue lights illuminated the entire house.
I stood over Julian, watching him squirm under Evan’s grip. He looked pathetic. A hollow, weak man who had traded his soul for a few moments of stolen pleasure in a downtown penthouse.
“You’re pathetic,” I told him, my voice completely devoid of emotion.
The police burst through the doors with their weapons drawn. They dragged Julian to his feet, slapped handcuffs on his wrists, and read him his rights.
As they marched him out into the rain, I looked at Evan. He was breathing heavily, clutching his injured shoulder, but his eyes were entirely focused on me.
May you like
“Are you okay?” he asked, stepping toward me.
“I am now,” I replied. And as I wrapped my arms around him, burying my face in his damp shirt, I realized that for the first time in months, I felt safe.
