Not elegant. Not cinematic.
But enough.
Jack moves like lightning, catching Hanover and slamming him back against the wall—pinning him there, controlled and furious, not striking, just immobilizing him.
Hanover’s face stays calm, but his eyes burn with hatred. “You don’t understand what you just stepped into.”
Wyatt shoves him forward. “Oh, I understand plenty.”
Hanover’s voice is frantic, breaking. “Please—please, this isn’t?—”
“Save it,” Wyatt snarls. “You stole from our school. You threatened my sister.”
A deputy cuffs Hanover as he sputters excuses.
Jack turns to me the second Hanover is secured, his hands on my shoulders, eyes scanning my face like he’s trying to make sure I’m still real. “Are you hurt?” he demands.
I swallow, throat tight. “No.”
Jack’s gaze drops to my arm, checking for bruises, then back to my eyes. His voice breaks just slightly. “You scared me. Don’t ever do that again.”
I blink fast, fighting tears. “I know. I’m sorry.”
Wyatt steps closer, breathing hard. “Stella.”
I look at my brother. His eyes are fierce, but his hands are shaking. “I’m okay,” I whisper.
Wyatt pulls me into a crushing hug that steals my breath. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“I scared the hell out of me too,” I mumble into his shoulder.
Behind Wyatt, Hanover is being walked out, still trying to keep his composure.
“You can’t prove anything,” he says smugly.
Wyatt smiles without humor. “Try me.”
I lift my chin and stare back.
Not today.
He’s led out.
When the office finally empties, the room feels too bright. Too normal. Like it can’t hold what just happened.
I exhale shakily and sink onto the chair in front of Hanover’s desk, legs suddenly weak.
Jack crouches in front of me, hands braced on my knees, eyes locked on mine. “Talk to me.”
My voice cracks. “I thought… I thought if I had proof, he’d have to listen.”
Jack’s expression softens, but the anger is still there under it. “You were right. But you walked into a closed room with a man who wasn’t playing by the rules.”
Tears burn behind my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Jack’s thumb brushes my knee gently, grounding me. “Don’t apologize for caring. Apologize for risking yourself.”
I nod once, swallowing hard. “Okay.”
