I stumble back a step, my legs unsteady.
Hanover tries to slide sideways—toward the door. Toward escape.
Jack’s voice cuts through the room. “Don’t.”
Hanover freezes. “You can’t arrest me.”
“No,” Jack agrees. “But I can hold you.”
Hanover’s eyes are wild now, darting. “This is a misunderstanding?—”
“Shut up,” I snap, my fear turning to anger so sharp it steadies me. “You were going to take me.”
Hanover flinches like I slapped him. He exhales like he’s annoyed the day didn’t go his way. “You think you’ve won because the tough guy showed up?”
Jack doesn’t answer. His hand tightens at my back. Not painful. Just… there.
Then I hear it?—
Footsteps pounding down the hallway.
Voices.
Wyatt.
“Stella!” Wyatt’s shout is sharp, panicked.
Hanover’s eyes narrow. “You called the cavalry.”
Jack’s mouth is a hard line. “Always.”
The door opens wider as Wyatt barrels in with two deputies behind him, faces grim.
Wyatt’s gaze lands on me first—his face cracking with relief for half a second—then his eyes go nuclear when he takes in Hanover.
“Hands,” Wyatt barks. “Now!”
Hanover lifts his hands slowly, but his eyes stay cold. “This is insane.” His breathing is too fast. Too panicked.
And then—like a cornered animal—Hanover lunges.
Not at Jack.
At me.
He grabs for my arm, yanking me toward him like I’m a shield.
My body jolts with terror—pure, white-hot.
But something in me snaps into place.
I’m done being prey.
I twist, wrenching my arm free, and shove him hard with both hands.
Hanover stumbles back into his desk, knocking a stack of papers onto the floor. He grabs for me again—clumsy, desperate.
I recoil, then swing my elbow back instinctively, catching him in the chest as I scramble away.
