A new voice cuts through the shop like a gavel.
“That’s enough.”
Captain Saxon Cole stands in the doorway in uniform—dark jacket, badge, authority in every inch of him. He looks like judgment made human. His gaze flicks once over the scene: Wyatt’s posture, Graham’s rage, my pale face, the way Maddie’s arm is braced in front of me like a barrier.
Saxon’s eyes land on Graham. “You.”
Graham scoffs, trying to recover. “Are you in charge here?”
Saxon walks in slowly, controlled. “I’m in charge of Devil’s Peak Fire & Rescue,” he says. “And I’m in charge of what happens when someone brings their little power games into my town and puts my people at risk.”
Graham’s mouth tightens. “This is a private matter.”
Saxon’s gaze doesn’t move. “Harassment isn’t private.”
Graham’s eyes dart toward the window again—toward the audience. He adjusts his jacket like he’s about to perform.
Saxon doesn’t let him.
“You’re being recorded,” Saxon says, calm. “And you just said ‘you can’t keep her’ in front of witnesses.”
Graham’s face flickers. “That’s not what I meant.”
Maddie’s voice is sweet and deadly. “Sure it is.”
Ethan steps forward, ranger presence filling space. “We also have evidence of trespass near a backcountry cabin. Tracks. Surveillance gaps. And a texted photo from outside the window.”
Graham’s gaze snaps to Ethan. “You can’t prove?—”
Ellie-in-me wants to shrink. My old instinct wants to sayI don’t want trouble.My old instinct wants to apologize for making a scene.
I force my spine straight.
I lift my phone. “It’s all on here,” I say, voice steady. “He threatened me. He admitted he’d ruin me. He tried to take my phone. He said—” I swallow hard and look at Graham. “He said I always come back.”
Graham’s eyes flash. “Ellie?—”
Saxon’s voice cuts in, sharper now. “Stop talking.”
Graham freezes, stunned.
Saxon pulls his own phone out and makes a call, voice low and clipped. “Sheriff’s office? I need a unit at Devil’s Kiss Chocolates. Now.”
Graham’s face shifts. “This is insane. I’m a citizen.”
Saxon’s gaze goes flat. “So is she.”
Wyatt hasn’t moved much since I told him to stop. He’s standing there like a coiled spring, breathing controlled, but his eyes are still on Graham like he’s a threat that needs to be neutralized.
I can feel Wyatt’s anger like heat coming off him.
And under it… something else.
Fear.
Not for himself. For me.
The bell jingles again as the door opens and a deputy steps in. Then another.
