Page 85 of Catcher

“Catcher—” Ruby’s voice is rough from everything she’s survived in the last twenty-four hours, but hearing it still hits me square in the chest, hard enough to make something violent twist deeper inside me.

Robby wheezes beneath my grip.

“You got a fuckin’ death wish?” I growl, leaning closer until he’s forced to look me in the eye. “Showin’ up here after what those motherfuckers lookin’ for your ass did to her?”

His face is already turning red. Good. Maybe I should squeeze harder, finish this right now, and save everybody the trouble.

His mouth opens, but only a strangled sound comes out because my grip is crushing his windpipe against the wall.

Behind me, I hear the faint metallic clink of Ruby’s IV line shifting.

“Catcher,” she says again, sharper this time despite the weakness underneath it. “Stop.”

I don’t, not right away. Every time I look at him, I think about Ruby crumpled in that parking lot and our baby. And this worthless son of a bitch standing in front of me is the reason she’s carrying fear and bruises instead of peace.

Robby finally manages to choke out, “I came to apologize.”

The words snap something ugly loose in me. I shove him harder into the wall. The impact rattles the doorframe. “You came because nobody else would take you in,” I snap. “Don’t stand in front of her, actin’ like guilt brought you here. Fear did.”

The second he looks at his sister, my grip tightens again on instinct alone, pure animal reaction flooding my system so fast my vision edges darken.

“Catcher!” Ruby’s voice cracks through the room.

I drag in a slow breath through my nose and force my hand to ease before I crush his damn throat in front of her.

Robby coughs violently, sucking in broken breaths.

Ruby shifts carefully in the hospital bed, pain flashing across her face before she masks it. Even bruised and exhausted, she’s still trying to hold herself together, still trying to protect people who don’t deserve it.

I reach into my pocket with my free hand, pull out my phone, and toss it onto the bed beside her. “Call Riggs.”

Robby goes still beneath my grip. “Wait!”

I slam him back into the wall hard enough that his teeth snap together. “Shut the fuck up.”

Ruby stares at the phone for half a second before looking back at me.

The room feels too small.

The monitor beside her bed keeps beeping steadily, but every sound feels distant under the pounding in my skull.

“Last call,” I tell her. “His number’s there.”

Her fingers curl around the phone slowly. She knows once Riggs steps into this room, the line between her family mess and club business disappears completely. But she also knows we’re past pretending this shit can still be handled quietly.

Ruby swallows hard but hits the call button anyway. Her voice is soft, shaky around the edges. “Catcher needs you.”

That’s all she has to say.

Robby squirms. “You don’t understand⁠—”

“I understand enough,” I cut in coldly. “Men put their hands on her because of you.”

Silence stretches heavy afterward, except for Robby struggling to breathe and the hum of fluorescent hospital lights overhead. He smells like sweat, cigarettes. His throat works beneath my hand, “She’s my sister. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

His words hit wrong.

If she matters that much to him, why has she spent the last year drowning because of his choices? Why is she stuffing overdue bills into kitchen drawers? Why is she the one lying in a hospital bed?