“I have disabled the enemy,” Arthur said, his tone shifting back to the pragmatic commander. “He hit a pregnant woman. He caused a miscarriage through documented, forced domestic labor. He has bruises on his knuckles, and you have his handprint swelling on your face. I am a retired General with a network of military defense lawyers who would love nothing more than to tear this boy apart in a courtroom. We can bury him under a prison.”
Arthur placed his large hands over mine, steadying my shaking fingers around the phone.
“But you have to fire the shot, Maya,” Arthur said firmly, locking eyes with me. “I can protect you. I can break his bones. But I cannot give you your power back. You have to take it. You have to be the one to end him.”
I looked down at the phone. Then, I looked past Arthur’s shoulder.
I looked at Leo. He was cowering on the floor, his designer clothes covered in blood and glass. He was looking at his mother, begging her with his eyes to do something, to save him. Helen just sat there, paralyzed, abandoning her golden boy the moment real consequence entered the room.