The Negotiator's Cruelest Game

, as he fussed over Brooke. He was a str

otion. I pointed a trembling finger at Brooke. "S

a fiery pain. The fog of love and grief had fina

e swelling bruise on my face. A flicker of something-guilt? co

he snapped, his attention

lmly to the 911 operator,

"You're calling the police? On Brooke? Do you have any i

Her reputation. Her future.

ipping with sarcasm. "Should I have thanked her for steal

He just stared at

out a low moan. "Harrison, I

, his movements gentle and protective. He carried

th you later,

g in the wreckage of our life, bleeding and alone, without a second glance. The

edics. They patched up my face while

the hallway should have

pologetic. "I'm sorry, ma'am. The feed seems to be

ave thought of that. He would have

e officer continued. "His statement contradi

, bitter laugh. "

er said, clearly uncomfortable, "it's your word against h

liar," I said, the words tas

. But Mr. Phelps is a highl

ry, officer. I'm not his wife. We're not married.

ker of surpris

," I stated, my voice firm. "And he is an accessory after the fa

t. I knew it was a hollow promise. Harrison's powe

ying a takeout bag from my favorite

room. It was like watching a pr

rity footage," I said

teousness slipped back into place. "Brooke was distraught. She didn't me

fending h

said, my voice shaking with a cold f

protecting my family! And you've done nothing

it his chest with a dull thud, spill

napping. "That was my father's! I told you w

ed back. "I was going t

as that just another trinket

ve me space, promising t

he system was designed to protect men like him. I

me, a crushing, suffocating burden. He wasn't just a narcissi

. It wasn't Harrison. It was my brother, Dustin.

g. "It's Dad's old unit. There's