Silas catches his arm. “I’m getting the security footage first.”
He’s pulling up his phone, typing fast. Thirty seconds later, it rings.
“This is Silas Locke. Box twelve. I need security footage from the hallway outside our box. Last five minutes.” Pause. “Assault. My wife was grabbed by another guest.” Another pause. “I’ll wait.”
He puts the call on speaker, and I hear keyboard clicks and a muffled background conversation.
“Mr. Locke, we have the footage. The individual has been identified. We’re detaining him now.”
Silas lifts his chin. “I want him arrested for assault.”
“Understood, sir. We’ll handle it.”
“We’re coming down.” Silas ends the call.
Callum’s at the door, and Evan follows.
I hesitate. “You don’t need to?—”
“We’re going.” Silas’s eyes find mine. “You can stay here or come with us. Your choice.”
I follow them because staying alone feels worse.
The service elevator takes us down to the security level. There are long concrete hallways, fluorescent lights, and the muffled roar of the crowd bleeding through the walls.
Silas walks fast. Callum and Evan flank me, neither touching but close enough that I feel surrounded. Protected.
Silas gets a text and reads it. “Security has him in a back office.”
Two uniformed guards stand outside the door. Inside, the guy from the hallway sits in a metal chair, hands cuffed in front of him.
Silas speaks directly to the head of security, who is waiting in the hall.
I don’t hear what he says, but I hear the security guard’s response. “Police are on their way. Should be here in five minutes.”
“Good.”
The guy sees me through the open door and tries to stand. “Look, I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Callum rushes through the door before the security guard can react. His fist connects with the guy’s face—one clean hit that snaps his head back.
“Mr. Locke!” The guard lunges forward.
Evan is inside now, landing a second punch to the guy’s ribs before security pulls them both back.
“Enough!” The head of security wedges himself between them and the guy, who’s slumped in the chair, blood dripping from his nose. “Listen, I understand you’re upset, but?—”
“He assaulted my wife.” Callum shakes off the guard’s grip but doesn’t advance. “You’re lucky I stopped.”
The head of security’s attention shifts to Silas.
Silas pulls out a business card. “I want a copy of the police report when it’s filed.”
The guard takes the card. “Of course, Mr. Locke.”
We leave before the police arrive. The walk back to the elevator is silent, and back in the box, the game is in the third period, but none of us are watching it.
I sink onto the couch. Callum sits beside me, too close, one arm draped behind my shoulders. Evan takes my other side. Silas stands near the glass, staring at the ice.
