"There is no us."
"There will always be an us."
"No, Randall.There won't.I left you.I'm done.And you need to accept that and move on."
His expression hardens."I'm not moving on."
"You don't have a choice."
"Yes, I do."He pushes the door open and steps inside.I back up, hand going to my waistband."You're coming home with me.Tonight.And we're going to fix this."
"I'm not going anywhere with you."
"Yes, you are."
"No.I'm not."
He backhands me across the face, and I see stars.
And then it’s on.He's stronger, but I'm fast.And I'm angry.Eight months of fear and rage pour out of me, and I'm not holding back.
Timothy bursts out of the bedroom, and Adam comes through the door at the same time.
And then everything happens at once.
Timothy slams into Randall, ripping him off me.They go crashing into the overturned couch, fists flying.Adam goes for Timothy, but I'm faster.I grab the Glock from the back of my waistband and point it at him.
"Don't," I say.
Adam freezes.
"Get on the ground.Face down.Hands where I can see them."
He hesitates.
"Now."
He drops to the floor, and I keep the gun trained on him while Timothy and Randall fight.
It's brutal.Vicious.Randall lands a punch to Timothy's ribs, and Timothy responds with a blow to Randall's face that snaps his head back.Blood sprays from Randall's nose.
They're evenly matched.Both trained.Both dangerous.
But Timothy has something Randall doesn't.
My love.
Timothy drives Randall backward, slamming him into the wall.The impact shakes the apartment.He follows up with a knee to Randall's gut, and Randall doubles over, gasping.
"Stay down," Timothy says.
Randall doesn't listen.He charges, tackling Timothy, and they go crashing to the floor.
I want to help.Want to shoot Randall and end this.But they're too close.I can't risk hitting Timothy.
So I keep my gun on Adam and watch.
Timothy gets the upper hand, flipping Randall onto his back.He straddles him, landing punch after punch.Randall tries to fight back, but he's outmatched.
