He put everything he had into it this time.The ground didn't give.
The man kept fighting.He hooked a boot around one of Colby’s ankles and yanked.His chest heaved.His breath rasped.
“Let… go,” the man spat.
“Not happening,” Colby said.
Distant sirens rose, thin at first, then building.The sound threaded through the trees and up the access road.
The man heard it too.His eyes flashed, wild now.
His head jerked to the side, searching the ground.“Where is it?”
“Looking for your lighter?”Colby asked.“Too bad.”
The man snarled and reached for Colby’s throat again.
Colby shifted, let the reach come, then trapped that wrist too, pinning both arms above the man’s head.He leaned in, using his weight like a clamp.
“You're done,” he said quietly.
The man strained, muscles tight, but the fight had changed.The edge of control bled out, leaving something harsher.
Gravel crunched on the access road.Headlights swept across the field, catching the gas can, the dark stain on the dirt, the two figures locked at the base of the frame.
“Copper Moon PD!”Diaz’s voice cut through the wail of the siren as it died.“Freeze.Hands where I can see them.”
Colby didn't move.“They're as up as they are getting,” he called back, breath rough.“But they're attached to him right now.”
He felt more than saw Diaz approach, the solid rhythm of boots on uneven ground, the sharp focus in the way she moved.
“Don't move,” she said again, closer now.
“Not planning to,” Colby said.
He eased back just enough that she could see the man’s hands where he held them pinned.Her weapon stayed trained as she angled for a clear view.
“Sir,” she said to the man, voice flat.“You keep those hands right there.You twitch toward your pockets, and you'll regret it.”
The man glared up at her, chest heaving.
She flicked a quick look at Colby.“You hurt?”
“I've had better evenings,” he said.“Nothing feels broken.”
“Good enough,” she said.
She holstered her weapon and pulled cuffs from her belt.“On my count, you let me have his right wrist.We're doing this without more blood if we can help it.”
“Yes, Sergeant,” Colby said.
They moved together without wasted motion.
“Three,” Diaz said.
On three, he shifted his weight, giving her room while still pinning most of the man’s strength.She snapped the cuff on one wrist, then the other, dragging his hands behind his back with an efficiency that said she had done this plenty of times.
The fight bled out of him in a hissed curse.
