Color rises in his cheeks. "You've been harassing me. Turned the whole town against me with your sob story."
"Is that what you call this?" I push up my sleeve, revealing the fading but still visible bruises on my wrist. "A sob story?"
The diner falls silent, every eye on the clear handprint marked on my skin. Even Ronald Cooper looks momentarily discomfited.
"You probably did that to yourself," Brad recovers quickly. "Desperate for attention. Always have been."
"Funny," I say, voice steady despite the rage boiling inside me. "The pattern matches your hand perfectly. What are the odds?"
A murmur ripples through the onlookers. Brad's friends shift uncomfortably, not quite meeting his eyes. For the first time, uncertainty flickers across his face.
"You're lying," he insists, but his voice lacks conviction.
"Am I?" I step closer, letting my anger show. "You grabbed me, Brad. You threw my laptop out the window. You called me worthless. And now you're trying to do it again, make me feel small, make me doubt myself, but it won't work. Not anymore."
"You should listen to yourself." He tries to rally, looking around at the gathered crowd for support. "This is the unstable behavior I've been talking about. Delusions. Paranoia. And now she's dragged Elias McKenna into her mess, convincing him of her lies."
I laugh, the sound sharp with disbelief. "Elias McKenna isn't 'convinced' of anything. He saw the bruises. He saw you trespassing on his property. He heard the threats you made on his porch."
"More lies," Ronald Cooper interjects. "My son would never?—"
"Your son did exactly that," Elias's deep voice cuts through the diner as he steps to my side. "And if either of you come near her again, what happened here today will seem like a picnic."
The threat is delivered with such calm certainty that even the elder Cooper takes a step back. For a moment, I glimpse what enemies must see when facing Elias McKenna, implacable determination backed by absolute capability.
"Are you threatening us?" Ronald demands, bravado returning.
"Just stating facts." Elias's hand finds mine, a public declaration that sends whispers through the gathered crowd. "Riley is filing for a restraining order against your son. With extensive evidence. I suggest you consider your next moves very carefully."
Brad's eyes narrow, focusing on our joined hands. "So it's true. You've been screwing her. I wonder what her father would think of that arrangement?"
The calculated cruelty of the attack makes me flinch. But before Elias can respond, another voice cuts through the tension.
"Bill Hart would approve."
All heads turn to Maggie, the diner's elderly owner, who's watched the proceedings with growing disgust from behind her counter. She steps forward now, wiping her hands on her apron.
"I've known Bill Hart since he was knee-high to a grasshopper. Known Elias McKenna just as long. Known all of you." Her sharp gaze sweeps the diner. "Bill trusted Elias with his life in that godforsaken war. Trusted him with his daughter after. And if Bill were here today, he'd be standing right where Elias is standing."
The simple declaration, delivered with the authority of Grizzly Ridge's oldest resident, carries more weight than any legal argument. Tears prick at my eyes as Maggie continues.
"As for you, Bradley Cooper," she turns her formidable glare on Brad, "I've watched you grow from a spoiled brat into a bully who thinks his daddy's money makes him untouchable. Well, not in my diner. You're banned. Permanently."
Brad's face flushes an ugly red. "You can't?—"
"I just did." Maggie crosses her arms. "And the same goes for anyone who supports this nonsense against Riley and Elias. The McKennas have protected this town for generations. Where were the Coopers when the wildfire nearly took out half the county in '98? When that bus of schoolchildren went off the road in the blizzard of '05?"
Her words ripple through the crowd, reminding everyone of the McKenna family's deep roots in Grizzly Ridge. The tide of public opinion, already wavering, shifts perceptibly.
Ronald Cooper recognizes it too. "Come on, Brad," he mutters, tugging his son's arm. "This isn't the time or place."
"This isn't over," Brad snarls, allowing himself to be pulled toward the door. "Not by a long shot."
As they leave, the tension in the diner dissipates like air from a punctured balloon. Sawyer begins issuing calm directives, dispersing the crowd and restoring order. The McKenna brothers converge around Elias and me, a protective circle of tall, imposing men with identical determined expressions.
"You okay?" Finn asks, eyeing me with concern.
I nod, overwhelmed by the show of support. "Thank you. All of you."
