“DON’T YOU DARE step one foot outside and get involved in this,” London snarled at me into the speakerphone. “If you do, I will personally ride over your bad leg with my wheelchair a few dozen times, you got that? Dima and Razor are both on their way, and so are the police. And they’ve probably got a few more of the guys coming by now, too. But you and Carter are staying put inside that house, or I swear to God, you won’t want to face my wrath.”
I peeked through the mini-blinds again, Carter and Snoopy at my side, both as anxious as I was. “But how can I help him if I’m in here?”
“He wants you inside where you’re safe, dummy.”
“I know.” I groaned. “I’m staying put. But I feel like I should be doing something.”
“Can you record what’s happening?”
“Not while I’m on the phone with you.”
“Well, let’s hang up then,” she replied. “Better to have evidence.”
“But what if—"
“My iPad!” Carter shouted.
“Good idea,” London replied. “Go get it, buddy. Hurry. Go fast.”
He looked at me for approval. I gave him a quick nod, and he took off up the stairs to dig through his backpack.
For once, Snoopy didn’t tail his boy, but instead stayed right by my side. His attention was trained fully on Ethan and Ethan’s father, just like mine. That dog didn’t move a muscle, and his ears and tail were on high alert, a low, menacing growl rumbling through his chest.
Ethan had his hand on his father’s throat. A shudder coursed through me. It was so eerily similar to the night Hayes had attacked me in the parking lot, the way Ethan had tried to save me. But even though I knew his father deserved every bit of this and more because of all the things he’d done to Ethan, I also knew there had to be something else going on here. Something I couldn’t see.
There had to be. Didn’t there?
Ethan wouldn’t do something like this without good reason—especially not while Hayes’s legal team was still attempting to use this very sort of behavior as a defense.
“I don’t get it,” I said to London. “I don’t know why’s Ethan’s doing this. Why now? Why would he fall into that trap?”
“Everyone has a breaking point. Maybe his father knows what Ethan’s is. Maybe he said something that caused Ethan to snap.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“If anyone would know his triggers, it’d be his father.”
I didn’t want to think about Ethan having triggers that would set him off like this. I didn’t want to think about him snapping. Because what if I stayed with him? What if I set him off someday? Or what if Carter did, or even Snoopy? And if that happened, as horrible as the thought might be, could I leave? Could I walk away, knowing he might hurt his son if he didn’t have me there to hurt instead? Could I leave knowing he might do something to harm that little boy?
A lead weight settled in my gut at the thought.
I couldn’t go there. Not now.
The clatter of Carter’s feet rushing back down the stairs was the only sound to disturb the painful tension. “Here, Natalie!” he said, thrusting his iPad into my hands.
Leaving the phone on speaker, I set it down on the window ledge and started filming through the blinds with the iPad. I zoomed in as close as I could without thoroughly compromising the quality of the video, staring at the screen in shock.
Because someone else was climbing out of the car.
“He brought someone else with him! Ethan can maybe hold off his father, but if they team up against—”
“You’re not going out there,” London shouted at me. “Don’t even think about it.”
“But if it’s Hay—”
“If it’s Hayes, then he’s hoping you’ll come out there. Don’t be stupid. You’re not going to be the dumb-ass blonde in the movie who thinks she can fend off men twice her size and ends up getting both herself and the badass hero in bigger trouble than they were in to start with.”
Even though I knew she was right, I didn’t want to acknowledge it. Didn’t want to believe it. Didn’t want it to be true.
“Who’s that lady?” Carter asked.
A lady? I strained my eyes to see, but whoever had gotten out of the car was still obscured by Ethan and his father. But then Ethan shoved his father against the side of the car, and I realized Carter was right. It was a small woman with graying hair. And she was tugging on Ethan’s arms, trying to get him to release his father.
“Carter, I need you to do me a favor,” I said. “Can you open the window?” Maybe then we’d be able to hear what was going on without going outside.
“Good plan,” London said. “You’ll probably have to flip the window locks open. Can you reach them?”
“I’ll get a chair,” he said. The next thing I knew, he was dragging a chair from the dining room into the living room. He climbed on top of it and stretched to open the locks, and moments later, he slid the window up.
“You have to let him go,” the woman pleaded, still tugging on Ethan’s arms. “Please. You can’t kill him.”
I zoomed in on her face, because something seemed off.
Bruises. Dark, purple bruises all over her face.
Ethan’s mother. It had to be. I needed to get better images. Better sound. I couldn’t do that from inside the house.
“Stay here,” I said to Carter, and before he could stop me, I hurried out the front door, his iPad still filming, leaving my cell phone with him while Snoopy barked in my wake and London shouted something unintelligible at me.