Page 297 of Wicked Brutal

Arthur doesn’t slow. “We need to talk.”

“No, you need to get the fuck off my property.”

“We’re here for Alison, Jane, and Tobias.”

Roman looks over all of us — the dads, the boys, Arthur out front. Counting. I watch him count.

“Nobody is going anywhere.”

“Alison is eighteen,” Arthur says. “Jane is an adult.”

“This is a family matter.”

“You lost the privilege of calling it that.”

Roman’s face twists.

Dad steps up beside Arthur. “Where’s Toby?”

Roman looks at him. “My son is none of your fucking concern.”

Dad’s voice changes. Drops. Goes quiet in the way that’s worse than loud. “You put your hands on my little buddy?”

Roman stares at him. “What?”

“On my Toby?”

“Don’t call my son that.”

“He calls me my Walter.” Dad takes a step. “I’ll call him whatever the fuck I want.”

“You stay away from my son.”

“Then stop giving him reasons to run to me.”

Roman comes down one step. Dad moves forward.

Arthur gets an arm between them. “Walter.”

Dad doesn’t look at him. “I remember.” Barely. I can hear how thin the leash is in those two words. So can Arthur.

Roman’s attention lands on me. “This is you.”

“Where’s Ally?”

“You’ve caused enough problems.”

“Where is she?”

“You don’t come onto my property and demand anything from me.”

“Where the fuck is she, Roman?”

“Ryan,” Arthur warns.

Then there’s movement behind Roman in the doorway. Ally.

Everything else disappears. She’s standing there in the light spilling out of the house. The bruise on her face is still visible beneath the makeup. Her lip is healing. Her arms are covered, but I know what’s underneath every inch of that fabric. Her eyes find mine across the yard, and they’re scared. Really fucking scared. And she doesn’t look away. She holds onto me with that look like I’m the only steady thing in the whole yard.