I lean in closer, my forearm pressing harder against his throat. “Why are you here? What do you want?”
“Just wanted to see my family,” he manages to gasp out.
“Bullshit,” I snarl, my anger boiling over. “You’re not here for family. You have no fucking family.”
I pull back slightly, then slam him against the wall again. His head hits with a dull thud, but he just laughs, a wet, gurgling sound.
“You always were too smart for your own good,” he says, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Just like your mother.”
“Don’t talk about her,” I warn, my hand balling into a fist.
“Why not?” he taunts. “She was always too proud to admit she needed me. Always thought she could do it all on her own. Look where that got her. A burned-out house and a son who thinks he’s a man.”
My fist connects with his jaw, the impact sending a shockwave up my arm. Blood sprays from his mouth, splattering across the wall. He stumbles but doesn’t fall, his eyes narrowing with rage.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he says, wiping blood from his lip with the back of his hand.
He lunges forward, his own fists flying. Punch after punch, each impact fueled by years of resentment and pain.
I can hear the sounds of the café around me—my mother’s cries, Aunt Dee’s shouts, Jessica’s frantic voice on the phone with the police. But it’s all distant, muffled, as if I’m underwater. All I can focus on is the man in front of me, the monster from my past who’s somehow materialized in my present.
His fist connects with my ribs, stealing my breath. I retaliate with a punch to his nose, feeling cartilage give way under my knuckles. He howls in pain, hands flying to his face.
“That’s for my mother,” I growl, following up with another punch to his stomach. “And that’s for me.”
He doubles over, gasping for air, but I’m not done. I grab him by the front of his shirt, pulling him up only to slam him against the wall again.
“You’re never coming back,” I repeat, my words punctuated by another punch. “You’re never going to hurt us again.”
The café door bursts open and Knox strides in, his gun drawn, his eyes scanning the room. “Police! Everybody freeze!”
For a moment, I don’t register his presence. I’m too focused on Arnold, on the years of pain I’m finally able to repay in kind.
“Liam, stop,” Knox says, his hand on my shoulder. “It’s over.”
I turn, my fist still raised, and see Knox standing there, looking at me with concern. Something inside me snaps.
“Don’t touch me,” I snarl, shaking off his hand.
“Easy, son,” Knox says, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. “Just calm down.”
“I’m not your son,” I spit out, the words tasting like poison. “And I’m not calming down. Not while he’s still breathing.”
I turn back to Arnold, but Knox steps between us, blocking my path.
“That’s enough, Liam,” he says, his tone firm. “Step away.”
“Get out of my way,” I warn, my body vibrating with rage.
“I can’t do that,” Knox says. “You need to stand down.”
Something in his tone, that authoritative bite that reminds me so much of Arnold, sends me over the edge. Before I can think, before I can stop myself, my fist is flying.
It connects with Knox’s jaw, sending him stumbling back. The shock on his face is quickly replaced by anger.
“That was a mistake,” he says, rubbing his jaw.
Two deputies rush forward, grabbing me by the arms. I struggle against them, but they’re stronger than they look. My wrists are secured behind my back with cold metal cuffs.
