Chapter 3: Assessment
I did not raise my voice.
I did not step toward them.
I simply kept one arm around Abigail and used the other to take my phone from the inner pocket of my uniform jacket.
Patricia’s smile tightened a fraction.
“There’s no need for theatrics, Colonel.”
I ignored her.
I dialed a number I had not needed in a civilian hospital before and spoke two quiet sentences when it was answered. Then I ended the call and returned the phone to its place.
Nicholas shifted his weight.
“Who did you just call?”
“Someone who will make sure my daughter leaves this hospital safely and that the injuries on her body are properly documented,” I said. My tone remained even. “After that, we will discuss what happens next.”
Gregory laughed under his breath.
“You really think a uniform and a few medals change anything in this city?”
I met his eyes.
“I think evidence changes things. Photographs. Medical records. A recorded statement from my daughter. And the fact that three adults are currently standing in a hospital room attempting to intimidate a victim of assault in front of a witness who happens to be a commissioned officer of the United States Army.”
Patricia’s expression cooled further.
“Be careful, Colonel. Reputation is a fragile thing. Especially for someone who spends so much time away from home.”
Abigail’s fingers dug into my sleeve.
I looked down at her swollen eye, the split lip, the fingerprint bruises, and the torn dress that had once been chosen for a different kind of evening.
Then I looked back at the three people in the doorway.
“You locked my daughter in a guest house,” I said. “You took her phone. You left marks on her that will photograph clearly under hospital lighting. And you walked into this room believing your money and your connections would be sufficient to make those facts disappear.”
I adjusted my hold on Abigail so she could rest more securely against me.
“That belief,” I finished, “is about to be tested.”
Footsteps sounded in the corridor—measured, purposeful.
The Fergusons turned toward the sound.
I did not.
May you like
I already knew who was coming.
And I already knew that the second mistake they would make was underestimating how thoroughly I intended to remove their access to my daughter—starting tonight.
