“Where the fuck is she?” The commotion outside of her office dragged her focus from her work.

“Can I help you, Sir? Who are you looking for?” Davina asked. Always one to keep calm in a situation, she could at least give the girl that. Even if she couldn’t give her anything else.

“That fucking woman who has been pissing in my wife’s ear,” the man yelled so loud, August was sure the whole building would hear him.

“I’m not sure what you are talking about, Sir,” Davina went on, and August knew she would be looking at him over the thick, black rim of her glasses.

“If she won’t come out here, right now, I’ll find that motherfucker myself,” he shouted, barely paying any attention to the receptionist at all as his heavy footsteps moved closer to her office.

As August moved toward her door, Davina appeared with her back to her. Just beyond Davina, she could see a familiar figure. John Bryson. August had handed the Bryson case notes to Mercy some weeks prior. Mercy had obviously informed Mrs. Bryson of her findings, and Mr. Bryson was not taking it so well.

“Please, if you just take a seat in the waiting room, Sir, I will call Miss Belle to come speak with you,” Davina tried to placate.

The man towered over Davina, but to her credit, she didn’t show any signs of intimidation.

“Is everything okay out here?” August asked, startling the younger woman.

“You!” Bryson’s face turned red as he raised his index finger and pointed it in August’s face. “I’ve seen you. You’re the fucking slut that was watching me. You took the photos. This is all your fault.”

“Please don’t speak to my staff like that,” Mercy spoke clearly as she made her way down the short corridor toward the gathered party. “If you have an issue with a member of my staff, you can speak to me about it.”

“Belle?” Bryson asked a smug expression softening his anger.

“Yes. Mercy Belle,” she stated extending a hand to the man.

August tried to hide a sneer. She had to give it to Mercy, she was always professional. The man was a disgusting pig.

Rather than shaking her hand he straightened his back and plunged his hand into his sports coat, producing a small pistol and aiming it directly at Mercy’s face.

Davina jumped back with shock, stepping down hard onto August’s foot and she let out a yelp of pain.

Mercy didn’t flinch. “Mr. Bryson, would you like a cup of tea? Perhaps we can sit and talk about whatever it is that’s bothering you.”

“Do I look like I want to talk?” Bryson bellowed, that familiar redness returning to his cheeks.

In the office, Logan let out a cry. The child was always crying over something, August couldn’t understand how Mercy allowed Davina to bring him into the workplace.

“Mama,” he cried.

Bryson spun around, swinging his gun in the child’s direction and she used his distraction to duck back into her office, making a quick grab for her phone.

“Stop there, fucker!” he yelled, swinging his gun back around to her.

“Come on now, Mr. Bryson. These girls are just doing their jobs,” Mercy tried. “I’m sure whatever it is, we can sit down and discuss the situation. How about you put the gun down before someone gets hurt?”

“Mama, mama,” Logan cried out again.

“Can I?” Davina asked him, remaining glued to the spot as she gestured towards her young son.

“Don’t fucking move,” he shook his head, a wild gleam in his eyes.

August dropped her eyes to Davina’s shaking hands. She was worried about her son. Her mind turned to Reese and the heartbreak he described at losing his baby girl. Her phone burned in her hand. She wondered if she could somehow get a message to him, alert him to their situation.

“Can you at least explain what this is all about, Mr. Bryson?” Mercy asked calmly.

“Well, Miss Belle…” he stated flatly. “As you seem to know who I am, you should already know why I’m here.”

“Yes, I do know who you are, Mr. Bryson,” Mercy nodded.

“So then you know what I want? I want something from you. You took my wife from me. Now, tell me what you are going to give me in return?” he ground out as he thrust the tip of his gun to the underside of Mercy’s chin.

“Mama, Mama,” Logan’s cries were becoming more and more persistent.

Davina’s worried eyes found hers, and she nodded to the phone in her hand as she slyly tried to peak at the screen. If she could just find Reese’s number and hit dial, hopefully, he would pick up and work out she needed help. It was a long shot, he was probably at work, but she wasn’t sure what else she could do.

“I’ve lost everything, because of you,” he went on, ignoring the baby. “I’ve lost my wife. My kids. My job. My friends all hate me. This would never have happened if you had kept your greedy eyes out of my business. Who the fuck do you think you are? Sneaking around and watching what I do?”

“With all due respect, Mr Bryson,” Mercy tried. “Your wife approached me, asking us to look into your affairs. The reasons your life is the way it is has nothing to do with anything we have done. Maybe you should try discussing things with your wife. Maybe she might find it in her heart to forgive you.”

“Forgive me?” he asked, his voice rising and it sounded like he was about to burst into tears. “She won’t forgive me. She hates me.”

“Then maybe you need to move on.”

With Bryson engaged with Mercy, August thought she might have a chance to break away.

“Stop right there,” he spat, as she suddenly found herself pinned under his weapon. “I never said you could go anywhere. And for God’s sake, shut that child up.”

Without warning, he spun his weapon towards Logan and fired. A second of shocked silence followed as the gunshot reverberated through the room. Bright red blood exploded from the side of the child’s face and spilled onto the carpet and furnishings

The noise that followed was unlike anything August had ever heard. Davina let out an anguished cry as she leapt across the room, not fearing for her own life. She scooped her small son into her arms. Screams of both mother and child filled the small space.

“You shot my son!” Davina shrieked. “You could have killed him. You could have killed my baby. No wonder your family all hate you!”

“I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t shut up,” he roared, his demeanour changed from that of someone broken and upset to someone wild and crazy.

The phone on the desk chortled out its familiar ringtone, and everyone’s eyes turned to it. With one hand covering the side of her son’s bloodied face, Davina reached out with her other hand to grab it.

“Don’t touch it,” Bryson ground out and she quickly retracted.

“Shh, baby boy,” she cooed to her son as she rocked him in her arms. “Mummy’s going to get you help. Mummy’s here. It’s going to be okay.”

As her own phone vibrated in her hand, she almost dropped it in shock. She had forgotten it was in her hand even though she held it a with a death grip.

Bryson’s eyes dropped to the offending object, and her heart dropped to her stomach.

“Hand it over,” he demanded, holding his palm out to her.

Reluctantly she did as she was told. He had already shot a baby. She was in no place to argue.

“How about we get the baby some help? Clearly, he needs an ambulance. Then we can sit down and talk about this rationally,” Mercy tried.

“Rationally? Don’t you think it’s a little too late for that?” Bryson scoffed.

“Well, what do you want, Mr. Bryson? What can I do?”

“I want my wife back,” he snapped as if it were obvious.

“I’m afraid I have no control over what your wife does, Mr Bryson.”

“She’s lucky she got away from you, you asshole,” Davina cried out from across the room.

“Not helping,” August huffed, rolling her eyes to the younger woman.

All eyes turned to the elevator when it tinged to herald the arrival of the car.

“Is everything alright in here?” came the voice of a suited man. August knew his name only as Tom. He worked on the floor above them, and they often passed each other and exchanged pleasantries. “I heard what sounded like a gunshot. I called the police. Just in case.”

Davina’s screams again caught August’s attention. She turned around just in time to see John Bryson’s arm wrapped around the younger woman’s waist and his gun pointed at her head.

“You tell the police there is nothing to see here and send them on their way,” Bryson ground out.

Tom’s face turned a pale shade of white as he took in the scene in front of him. His hands raised slightly in front of himself, and he began to tremble. His eyes shot around the room, and he nodded an acknowledgement to her and Mercy.

“Please, do as he says,” pleaded Mercy. Her face remained stoic, but August could see the fear in her eyes.

“Okay,” Tom nodded moving backward and bumping into the now closed doors of the elevator.

Fumbling for the button, the doors opened, and he made his way out. August could only hope he would be going straight to the police and alerting them of the current situation.

“Please, let Davina go, Mr. Bryson,” August asked, pushing herself forward. “Look, she has a small child. He is hurt and terrified.”

Davina’s eyes met hers with a grateful look. She might not like the woman, nor care much for the child, but she couldn’t stand by and do nothing; the boy needed urgent medical attention.

“It’s me you have the issues with. Not them.”

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“I don’t know. What do you want me to do, Mr. Bryson?”

“I want my family back.”

“I can’t give you that.”

“You’ve done this!” he yelled, flinging out his arm, he fired again. This time narrowly missing her shoulder as the bullet lodged in the wall behind her. Glass from a nearby print hanging on the wall shattered.

Logan’s wails were almost deafening, even over the sound of the gunfire. Davina jostled him as best she could, but her captor held her close, not letting go.

“Put down your weapon,” came a booming voice from behind and she turned to see two armed policemen, both holding their guns out in front of them. “Let go of the girl and put down your weapon,” the man in front commanded.

“I will kill her before I put my gun down. If you want to take me out, I’ll be taking the kid with me,” Bryson snarled, moving the gun from Davina’s head to Logan’s.

August sucked in a deep breath and her eyes flicked to Davina. Tears trickled down her cheeks, and her glasses sat half off her face.

“Mama, mama,” Logan cried, his voice soft now, as if he too understood the enormity of the situation.

“What’s your name?” the second officer asked. It was only then August realised the second man was Reese.

“Bryson. John Bryson,” the man admitted, not moving his gaze from the small child he was torturing.

“Well, John- may I call you that?” Reese went on without waiting for an answer. “My name is Reese Tucker. That little boy you are threatening to kill, his name is Logan. His mum is Davina. Do you have any children, John?”

“I did have. But not anymore. That motherfucker over there took my kids away,” he glared at her. His eyes black with hatred.

“August took your kids away?” Reese asked, his voice rising an octave. “That doesn’t sound right to me, John. Do you know why?”

John shook his head, turning slightly to take Reese in, keeping one eye on his target and the other on the policeman who had a gun trained on him.

“I don’t think that sounds right because I know August personally. I know she would never do anything to willingly hurt another individual. She might act all tough and cool on the outside, but on the inside, she is just as hurt and broken as the rest of us.”

August glared at him. Surely he wouldn’t spill his guts, would he? She had told him what she had in confidence. It was not for everyone to hear. She knew she had been wrong to trust him.

“My kids hate me because of what that fucker has done.” John slammed his hand down on the desk, causing everyone to jump and Logan’s cries to start up again.

“I don’t think that is true, either. Think about it, John. Has August even met your kids?”

John made eye contact with her again, before shaking his head.

“No,” Reese continued. “I don’t know your story, John. But I do know that the beautiful, sweet girl you are accusing of ruining your life, has very little to do with actually ruining your life.”

“My life was happy before she intervened,” John’s voice softened.

“Was it? Was it really?” Reese asked.

“My wife was happy. My family all loved me.”

“So what changed that, John? Was it August? Did August come around to your house and do something to your family to make them hate you?”

“She turned my wife against me. She… she… my wife was happy. It wasn’t hurting her. She didn’t know.”

“She knew, John,” Mercy chimed in with a calm voice. “She knew, that’s why she came to us.”

“I just wanted to keep her happy,” John’s voice broke, and the hand holding the pistol dropped to his side.

Within seconds Reese and his partner had him subdued and laying on the floor. As a team of other policemen swarmed into the room, Reese made his way over to her. She stood still, frozen in place, watching on with wide-eyed wonderment.

“Are you okay?” he asked, reaching out and touching her arm gently.

“I, ah, I…” she looked around to see where her phone had ended up. Spying it on the floor under Davina’s desk, she found her words. “I wanted to call you. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Someone in the office above called it in. My partner and I happened to be on the next block. As soon as I knew it was your building, I said I’d take it.”

She looked over at Davina, where she sat cradling her son. Dried blood stained her hands and clothes as she sat rocking back and forth. A female officer crouched in front of her, holding a wad of cloth to Logan’s face.

Mercy was chatting with an official-looking person who was scribbling something down. That was Mercy, always taking stock of the situation while everyone else was in a state of shock.

“They will want a statement from you. I can’t be with you when you give it. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, that’s okay,” she shook her head, slowly regaining her sense of reality. “Thank you. Thank you for coming and all the nice things you said.”

“I meant every word I said, you know?”

He dipped his head to make eye contact before brushing a stray tendril of hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. The small act made her feel like he actually cared.

“What I said about you. I believe it. You are a very beautiful, strong, amazing woman, August. Don’t you ever doubt that.”

She nodded her head. Not sure that she truly believed his words, but it was nice to hear them.

“I have to get back to work. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” she nodded again, feeling somewhat like a basket case and wondering if she must look like one, too.

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips against her forehead, then without saying a word, he turned and walked away. And she let him. It had been on the tip of her tongue to call out to his back. To tell him to call her. But she didn’t. She just stood. Silently. Watching him walk away. Again.