"Stay where you are," I tell her, my training kicking in even as my heart pounds against my ribs. "Don't open that door for anyone but me, you understand?"
"I think it's him, Quinn. I think it's Evan."
The line goes quiet for a second, and in that silence, I can hear something in the background. A sound that makes my blood turn to ice. The distinct creak of old wood, the kind of sound that particular back door makes when someone's putting pressure on it. The first night, I laid there and listened to the sounds of that house, and I heard that noise when the cat next door had tried to get in.
"Cecily?"
"He's inside," she whispers, and then the line goes dead.
"Fuck!" I slam my foot on the accelerator, the SUV surging forward as I take the corner onto Cedar Street doing forty in a twenty-five zone. "Troy, call for backup. Now."
"What's going on?" he questions, his tone showcasing his worry.
"Evan's at the house. He's got Cecily."
Troy's already on the radio, his voice steady and professional even as I'm driving like a man possessed. "Dispatch, this is unit seven. We need immediate backup at 1247 Cedar Street. Suspect is armed and dangerous, civilian in immediate danger."
The dispatcher's voice crackles back, but I'm not listening. All I can think about is Cecily, locked in that bedroom while Evan Salyers—a man who's already proven he's willing to hurt her—is somewhere in that house. The same house where we used to feel safe, where we used to hide from the world.
I've been in combat zones, I've seen things that would give most people nightmares, but nothing has ever scared me the way that dead phone line just did. The silence where Cecily's voice should be.
"Two minutes out," Troy says, checking his weapon. "Backup's en route."
"Not fast enough," I mutter, taking another corner too fast. The house comes into view, and everything looks normal from the outside. Cecily's car in the driveway, the front porch light on like a beacon in the dark night. But I know better. I know that sometimes the most dangerous situations look completely ordinary from the outside.
I park the SUV and I'm out before Troy can say anything about waiting for backup. My service weapon is in my hand, safety off, as I approach the front door. The training kicks in, all those years of clearing buildings and moving through hostile territory, but this is different. This isn't some faceless enemy in a foreign country. This is my wife, in our house, with a man who's already proven he wants to hurt her.
The front door is locked, but I have a key. Cecily gave it to me when I moved in, and right now I'm grateful for every awkwardconversation we had about boundaries and expectations. I slip the key in quietly, turn it slow, and ease the door open.
The house is dark except for the light coming from the kitchen, and I can hear voices. Evan's voice, low and threatening, and Cecily's, higher pitched with fear. They're not in the bedroom anymore. He got her out of there somehow.
"Quinn, wait for backup," Troy whispers behind me, but I'm already moving.
I've spent years learning how to move through buildings without making a sound, how to assess threats and neutralize them before they know you're there. But this isn't just about neutralizing a threat. This is about getting to Cecily before Evan does something that can't be undone.
The kitchen is at the back of the house, and as I move down the hallway, I can hear Evan's voice more clearly.
"You think you're so smart, don't you? Think you can just destroy someone's life and walk away?"
"Evan, please." Cecily's voice is shaky and terrified. "I was just doing my job. I didn't want to hurt you."
"Your job?" He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Your job was to keep your mouth shut."
I'm at the kitchen doorway now, and I can see them. Evan's got his back to me, and Cecily's pressed against the counter, her face pale with fear. He's not holding a weapon that I can see, but that doesn't mean shit. A man Evan's size could hurt her plenty with just his hands.
"Bellehaven PD," I say, my voice carrying every bit of authority I've ever used. "Step the fuck away from her, Evan."
He spins around, and I can see the surprise in his eyes. He wasn't expecting me to be here this fast. Good. Surprise is an advantage I can use.
"Well, well," he says, but I can see the calculation in his eyes. "If it isn't the war hero himself. Come to save your wife?"
"Last warning, Evan. Step the fuck away from her."
"Or what? You'll shoot me? In front of her?" He glances back at Cecily, and I see her flinch. "I don't think so, Quinn. I think you care too much about what she thinks of you to do something like that."
He's wrong. Dead wrong. I'd put a bullet in him right now if I thought it was the only way to keep Cecily safe. But he's also right about one thing—I do care what she thinks of me. I care more than I should, more than I've been willing to admit.
"Cecily," I say, keeping my eyes on Evan but talking to her. "Are you hurt?"
