"Get him out of here." Dominic says it to the security guard without looking away from his father. "He's trespassing. The police are welcome to him."
The guard enters the office with his phone still broadcasting to the 911 dispatcher. A second guard appears in the doorway, called from the lobby. Between them they get Richard's arms behind his back and walk him out, his feet dragging, his voice reduced to incoherent fragments.
The office goes quiet but the air is still thick with what just happened. Dominic crosses to me in three strides.
"Amos. Sit down." His hands find my shoulders and guide me into the desk chair. The movement jars my ribs and the pain that radiates through my left side makes my vision gray at the edges. "Where did he hit you?"
"Ribs. Left side. Two punches. Something cracked on the second one."
Dominic's hands move to my left side, pressing gently against the ribs through my shirt. The contact makes me hiss and pull away.
"Don't touch them." I press my own hand against the injury and the shape beneath my palm is wrong, a ridge where there should be smooth bone. "I think two are broken."
"Firefly, call an ambulance." Dominic turns toward the armchair.
Mattaniah is already on his feet with his phone pressed to his ear, his face white. "I need an ambulance at Hale Industries, executive floor. Broken ribs, possible internal injury. The victim is conscious and responsive." He rattles off the building address and floor number without hesitation.
He crosses the room and drops to his knees beside my chair. His hand finds mine and his fingers thread through my grip. His scent is still sour with fear but something sweeter is pushing through underneath, his body trying to soothe his injured mate.
"You put yourself between us and stepped into his path." His voice shakes.
"Seemed like the right move at the time." My breathing is shallow. "Less optimal in retrospect."
"You could have been killed. He was going for the baby, Amos."
"I know." I squeeze his hand despite the pain. "That's why I stepped in front of you."
"You idiot." His eyes are filling and his voice is cracking, his hand gripping mine so hard his knuckles are white. "You brilliant, stupid, self-sacrificing idiot."
"Noted." I lean my head back against the chair. "Call the lawyer while we wait for the ambulance."
Mattaniah stares at me, some fierce emotion I can’t pick apart through the bond making my bond mark throb. He hesitates for a moment before pulling out his phone and calling the lawyer.
When the paramedics arrive, they confirm what I already suspected: two broken ribs on the left side, no signs of pneumothorax. They strap me onto a stretcher, the movement sending fireworks through my ribcage but Mattaniah is watching, so I don't make a sound. He’s nearly catatonic, one of the paramedics barring his entry when he tries to climb into the ambulance.
Instead of making a fuss, he just stands there, my heart breaking as someone shouts ‘we need to go’, Dominic dragging him inside with us. My Alpha holds onto Mattaniah, softly stroking his hair while every minute on the way to the hospital, I spend cataloguing the evidence while the morphine starts to soften the edges.
"The security footage will show Father forcing past the guard." I say it to Dominic, who is sitting beside the stretcher with his hand on my forearm. "Combined with the guard's testimony and my injuries, the assault charges will be straightforward."
"You're lying on a stretcher with broken ribs and you're building a legal case." Dominic's grip tightens on my arm.
"Someone has to. The footage is timestamped. Make sure the building manager preserves it before Father's lawyers can request an injunction."
"Amos."
"The guard's split lip is additional evidence. Make sure he's photographed before medical treatment."
"Amos." Dominic's voice carries enough weight that I open my eyes. "Shut up and let them take you to the hospital."
I quiet, letting the paramedics do their job, bracing myself for the moment Mattaniah finally breaks. He remains silent, just watching until we get into a hospital room before walking directly to the bed and climbs in beside me on the right side, careful to avoid my left. His face presses against my shoulder without a word. He smells like terror and anxiety, his scent finally spiking the way I thought it would before we left for the hospital.
"I'm here." I press my mouth against his head. "I'm not going anywhere."
Dominic stands at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed and his jaw locked.
"You took the punches." Dominic's voice is flat. "You could have blocked or hit back."
"Hitting him back would have given him a mutual combat defense. Blocking would have redirected his momentum toward Mattaniah." I keep my voice level despite the morphine and the pain. "Taking the hits was the optimal outcome."
