Chapter 5 - The Toll of Seven Years
Tyler was pinned against the drywall, his face turning a dangerous shade of purple as Marcus’s grip tightened.
“Boss!” Tyler gasped, clawing at Marcus’s wrists. “Tell him to let me go! She fell! She tripped over her own bags! It was an accident!”
Gideon didn't turn around. He kept his eyes on Harper, watching the way she winced every time Tyler’s voice echoed in the small apartment.
“Accidents leave bruises on both sides,” Gideon said, his voice entirely flat. He looked back at Marcus without releasing Harper’s shoulders. “Did he use his hands or his feet?”
“Both, Boss,” Marcus replied, keeping Tyler immobilized with one hand while pulling a heavy leather notebook from his jacket with the other. “Neighbors on three sides heard shouting twenty minutes ago. One of them heard a bone snap.”
“No,” Tyler whimpered, all bravado evaporating as he looked at the cold, calculating faces of the men surrounding him. “Look, man, whatever she’s paying you—I’ll give you whatever you want. Just take her. Take her bag. She was leaving anyway!”
Gideon slowly stood up, leaving Harper supported by a folded wool coat he had slipped from his own shoulders and placed beneath her head.
He walked across the living room until he was standing inches away from Tyler.
Gideon was not a loud man. He did not scream or throw punches in blind rage. He was surgical, deliberate, and terrifyingly calm.
“Seven years ago,” Gideon began, his voice barely above a whisper, “another girl sent a message to a phone that shouldn't have been ringing. She was scared. She was trapped. And I didn't get there in time.”
Tyler stared at him, sweat pouring down his temples. “I don't... I don't know what you’re talking about.”
“I know you don't,” Gideon said softly. He raised his right hand and adjusted his suit cuff. “The man who hurt my sister thought he could hide behind closed doors, too. He thought that what happens between four walls stays between four walls.”
Gideon’s fist moved with lightning speed, catching Tyler squarely in the center of his chest with a dull, sickening thud that knocked every ounce of air out of the man’s lungs.
Tyler doubled over in Marcus’s grip, gasping like a fish out of water, his eyes wide with absolute horror.
“You broke her leg,” Gideon said, his voice dropping into a register that made the guards standing near the door straighten up even further. “Marcus. Break his.”
Before Tyler could scream, Marcus shifted his grip. A sharp, dry crack echoed through the apartment, followed immediately by a shriek of agony so loud it shook the remaining glass in the kitchen windows.
Tyler collapsed to the floor like a broken marionette, clutching his right knee, weeping uncontrollably as pain ripped through his body.
Gideon stepped past him without a second glance, walking back to where Harper lay wide-eyed on the floor.
“Can you hear me, Harper?” Gideon asked, dropping to one knee beside her again.
“You... you knew my name,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
“You texted it to me,” Gideon said softly. “Now, we’re going to leave this place. You’re going to a hospital where the doctors report to me, and you’re never going to see this piece of garbage again.”
Harper looked from Gideon to Tyler, who was writhing on the floor twenty feet away. The realization of what had just happened—the sheer impossibility of it—settled over her like a heavy blanket.
May you like
“Who are you?” she asked again, her eyelids fluttering with exhaustion.
“Gideon,” he said, sliding his arms carefully beneath her—one supporting her back, the other lifting her uninjured legs with infinite care so as not to jar the break. “Just Gideon.”
