Page 102 of Saving Wyatt

He snarled and ran toward me. Gone was the composed suited man who was so proper and kind. This was a wild animal out for blood.

He leapt across to me. His eyes were almost bloodshot. His hands stretched out in front of him, aimed at my throat. Before he could touch me, the cops who had arrested me grabbed him and tried to take him down.

He pushed them off. He kicked and punched and screamed. He got free and turned back to me.

But I was done being kicked to the ground by him. I stepped to the side and ducked away from his punch and then threw all my weight on him.

He stumbled but found his footing and made another attempt at knocking me down, but I had far more experience than him. I hadn’t spent the best part of my life in SEAL Team 13 for nothing. Even with my hands tied behind me, I could take down most men. Especially frantic men like him. Gone was the pain from yesterday. The bruising I’d collected was forgotten. I was sure it’d come back to bite me later, but now, I was nothing but a tank with one goal in mind.

Taking down enemy number one.

Every time he attempted to hit me, I slipped to the side. Once, twice. I spun around and turned my back on the cops, and Wilson faced me again.

I saw the hatred in his eyes. It seeped out of him like some sort of ghoul ready to infect anything in his path. I was sick of him.

This time, when he came for me, I didn’t move. I shifted my weight to my middle and pushed my stomach out, bracing for impact.

He, predictably, punched my stomach. And I, in return, headbutted him. I let out a loud growl, exhaling the pain that coursed through my body from the impact.

He stumbled back. I didn’t waste my chance. I closed the distance between us and headbutted him again. This time, I moved my feet behind his.

He fell to the ground groaning, and I knelt on top of him, trapping him under my weight.

“You bastard. You fucking bastard. You’re dead. You hear me? You’re dead.”

The crowd booed. He tried to hit me again, but the cops he’d knocked down came to my aid and seized him.

As he was led to the closest police car, the video kept playing on the screen, his confession loud and clear for everyone to hear. The crowd booed, and once he was carried away and I was left on stage with another cop who uncuffed me, they turned quiet, staring at me.

I felt their gaze penetrating to my very core, and I gulped.

I thanked the officer behind me and looked at the microphone. With small, hesitant steps, I approached it and leaned closer.

I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry for this. I…I couldn’t let this man destroy the island I love. The people I love,” I said.

I looked at the crowd, tried to show them I meant it. That I wasn’t the monster they all thought I was. The monster I thought I was.

His eyes looked back at me.

They were a lighthouse in a sea of strangers. He looked at me with pride, but also worry. I could read it in his expression. I might not have known him for long, but it was as if I’d known him a lifetime.

Someone started applauding. Then another. It was infectious. Soon everyone was cheering for me when moments ago they had been booing me. They didn’t care. They weren’t important. I had been trying to protect them, but they’d have just as easily taken me down over Wilson.

But he was there. And he was important. He mattered. We mattered.

Warren was right. I couldn’t lose Ari. I couldn’t imagine a life without him. He’d made the past couple of weeks the most beautiful I’d ever experienced, even amidst the dark cloud over our heads.

But now the dark cloud had parted, the sun had risen, and I couldn’t even begin to imagine how beautiful a life with him could be when I didn’t have to look behind my back all the time.

I started walking to the end of the stage. Each step, another ounce of courage. Each step, bringing me closer to him.

When I got to the edge of the stage, he frowned, as if he was wondering what I was doing. Where I was going.

I jumped off and closed the distance between us.

“What are you doing?” he whispered as the crowd around us stared.

“Coming home,” I said.