Page 25 of Protect

“I could arrest you for threatening an officer.”

“I’ll get out,” Jaxon says darkly.

The moment blisters. I’ve never seen someone attack my father head on like this, at least not with me right here.

“Or we could casually bring up that you could have stopped this years ago. That you knowingly put a minor in a dangerous situation,” Knox says calmly while picking at his nails. He lifts her diary. “Plenty of evidence right here.”

Dad looks at it. When Knox opens it, he pulls out some photos. “Look at this. She took photos of her own bruises. I bet I could find the bloody clothes she brought you too.”

“Kids need to be kept in line. She had no hard evidence. And that man is a pillar of this community. Kept you three from ending up inside one of these cells.” My dad looks at Jaxon. “For now.”

“You have a chance to free her from her abuser right now,” Knox says. “To do the right thing. I’d recommend taking it.”

“It’s more than a recommendation,” Jaxon growls.

“It’s your job,” I agree.

Finally, my dad’s gaze slides to me. “Is that so?”

“Or we can go to another precinct and let them know all of this,” I say darkly. “I’m not fucking around. Hope is in danger. She’s been beaten, she could be raped, or worse. It’s all on video if you think you need that.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, as if balancing the options in front of him. None of us have the patience for that.

“Dosomething, like you should have done years ago,” I say, then I know exactly what button to press. “Or would you want Mom to remember you like this?”

He sneers at me and stands up. “You don’t mention her. Not now, not ever. You’re not my fucking son and you don’t get to—”

“Be a concerned citizen who’s trying to stop a worse crime from occurring?” I demand, shoving Jax out of the way. “Because that’s what I’m doing and trust me, if we walk out of here without help, your career is over. A few entries of this diary released and you’re done.”

“You listen to me, boy,” he starts.

“No, you listen. You fucked up. She came to you, I know she did, and you handed her back on a fucking platter to that monster. You knew what he was doing to her, you knew, and you looked the other way!” I yell, my control slipping.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about!” he defends.

“I do, I saw you two, I was there. She begged you, cried, showed you the bruises and still you brought her back to him. What the hell is wrong with you!”

“Back off!” His breath comes out sharp. “Leave it be, Dimitri. There’s nothing you can do, nothingIcould do.”

“Then why are you even a fucking cop? You have a chance to fix it. You have a chance to make things right. Are you going to let it pass all over again?” I demanded.

“Don’t you tell me what I’m going to do or not going to do. But back the fuck off and—”

“Jax, don’t,” Knox warns as if he’s expecting Jaxon to lose his temper.

But he’s warning the wrong man. I throw myself over the desk and execute the kind of tackle that would make a coach cum. I slam my father into the filing cabinet behind him. I bring my fist down on his face next, then drive it into his side. I feel his gun and rip it out of the holster.

“Your job! You love that, don’t you? More than you could love your son or anything else! Have an ounce of fucking morals! Uphold the fucking law!” Every sentence is punctuated with a punch to his face or stomach. “Shunning me won’t bringherback!”

He tries to say something, but I shove his mace canister in his mouth. “So do your fucking job! Be the man you keep thinking you are! Stop being a fucking shit stain on society!”

I lose myself in the attack. I punch him until my knuckles are aching and I’m sure at least one finger is broken. I scream at him until I lose track of what I’m saying because the words don’t matter. He ignored me, belittled me, put me through hell all for something I couldn’t control, but he doesn’t get to do that to Hope.

No one gets to do it to Hope.

Hitting him is like hitting my past self and making both of them pay for letting Hope down when she needed help. She was screaming for it, taking risks to get it, putting herself in danger for the glimmering, minute chance that she might get free.

A hand on my shoulder stops me. I pant, still straddling the man that was once my father, but calling him that felt hollow and wrong. He was a shriveled, small, terrible man who didn’t have what it took to be a father or a decent human being. Now his mushy, pulpy face ruined by my fists showed it.

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