I'm already moving before I consciously decide to. Shaw's voice crackles in my ear, telling everyone to hold, but my legs are carrying me forward anyway because Craig's hand has shot across the table and grabbed Gemma's wrist, and the plan doesn't matter anymore.
Nothing matters except getting his hands off her.
I cover the distance in seconds, vaguely aware of Cole and Shaw converging from their positions, but I get there first. My hand closes around Craig's forearm, and I apply just enough pressure to the nerve cluster to make his grip go slack.
"Let go of her." My voice comes out flat. Controlled. The voice I used in combat situations when chaos swirled around me and the only way through was absolute stillness.
Craig's eyes snap up to mine, and I see the moment he recognizes me as a threat. He's not stupid, whatever else he is. He sees the way I'm standing, the coiled readiness in my posture, and he knows he's outmatched.
"This is a private conversation," he says, but his voice has lost its confidence.
"It was a private conversation. Now it's over." I release his arm but position myself between him and Gemma, blocking his access to her completely. "You need to leave."
Craig stands slowly, trying to regain some dignity. "And who exactly are you?"
"Someone who's not going to let you put your hands on her again."
His eyes flick past me to Gemma, and his features twist with contempt. "Is this your new protector, Gem? Found yourselfanother man to hide behind?" He looks me up and down, takes in the leather vest I'm wearing, the tattoos visible on my forearms. "Let me guess. You've got her convinced you're different from me. That you're going to treat her right." He laughs, a harsh sound that scrapes against my nerves. "I know what men like you want from women like her. The broken ones are always the easiest, aren't they? So grateful for any scrap of attention."
Behind me, I hear Gemma's sharp intake of breath. The words are designed to wound, to make her doubt herself, to poison whatever she's built since leaving him.
I don't rise to the bait.
"The difference between you and me," I say, "is that she can walk away from me anytime she wants. Could she say that about you?"
Craig's face goes red. "You don't know anything about our relationship."
"I know she has scars she hasn't shown me yet. I know she flinches when someone moves too fast behind her. I know she spent four years learning to make herself small so you wouldn't notice her." I take a step closer to him, close enough that he has to tilt his head back to meet my eyes. "I know exactly what kind of man you are. And I know you're never going to touch her again."
For a moment, I think he's going to swing at me. Part of me hopes he will. It would make everything simpler, give me a reason to do what I've been wanting to do since I first heard his name.
But Craig is a coward at heart. Guys like him always are. He backs away, hands raised in mock surrender.
"Fine. Whatever. She's not worth the trouble anyway." He looks past me at Gemma one more time. "You'll come crawling back eventually. They always do."
"No," Gemma says, and her voice is stronger than I've ever heard it. "I won't."
Blue and red lights flash at the edge of my vision. A patrol car pulls into the parking lot, and two officers step out. Shaw walks over to meet them, badge in hand, and I hear him explaining the situation in low, professional tones.
Craig's expression shifts from contempt to alarm. "What the hell is this?"
"That would be the police. Guess what happens when you violate a restraining order and put your hands on someone?"
"You set me up." His voice rises, incredulous. "You fucking set me up."
"You set yourself up. All we did was give you the opportunity."
Gemma grins—nothing forced or unsure, but a genuine fuck-you-sucker grin. "Yeah, I did."
The officers approach, and Shaw handles the handoff with practiced efficiency. Tate appears from wherever he's been monitoring, tablet in hand, and passes it to one of the officers.
"Audio and video of the entire encounter," he says. "Including the part where he admits to isolating her, monitoring her communications, and forcing her to quit her job. And the assault."
The officer's eyebrows rise as he scrolls through the footage. "This'll make the DA's day."
Craig protests, demands to speak to a lawyer, insists this is all a misunderstanding. The officers are polite but firm as they guide him toward the patrol car, reading him his rights.
I don't watch him go. I turn back to Gemma instead.
