Something inside him snapped.
"Hannah." His voice was rough.
She exhaled slowly. "Jake, don't."
He took a step closer. "Don't what?"
"Don't look at me like that." She turned back toward the counter, gripping the edge like it was the only thing holding her up.
"Like what?" His jaw clenched.
Her shoulders tensed.
Like I want to undo every mistake I ever made.
Like I want to hold you and never let go.
Jake inhaled sharply. He couldn't push her. Not now.
But she was in danger. And that, he wouldn't ignore.
"Who did this?" His voice was quieter now, but no less intense.
Hannah let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. "Does it matter?"
His gut twisted. "Yes. It matters."
She finally turned, meeting his gaze, something wounded in her eyes. "Michael."
It wasn't a surprise. But hearing it? Hearing her say it?
Jake saw red.
His fists clenched, rage curling in his chest like fire. He should have stopped this sooner. He should have?—
"Jake." Hannah's voice was softer now. Still wary, but steadier. "Don't. I know that look."
His pulse thundered. "He's threatening you."
"He's angry," she corrected.
"That's not an excuse."
She hesitated, just for a second, and in that hesitation, Jake knew—she was scared.
He took a careful step closer, lowering his voice. "Hannah. If he's escalating, we need to stop him before it gets worse."
She exhaled slowly, her hands tightening around the dish towel she held. "And how do we do that?"
Jake swallowed hard. Because his way—his instinct—was to handle it the old-fashioned way. The way that involved breaking Michael's face against a wall and reminding him exactly who he was dealing with.
But that wasn't what Hannah needed.
What she needed was someone she could trust. Someone who wouldn't take decisions out of her hands. Someone who wouldn't hurt her more by trying to protect her without her permission.
He forced himself to breathe. To be the man she deserved.
"We document everything," he said finally. "We go through the right channels. I'll push Martinez, I'll get eyes on him. And if the cops won't handle it—" His voice dropped lower. "I will."
