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I heard the sleepy steps of my kids as they ventured down the stairs. I rushed to the foyer and yelled up, “Stay in your room. Lock the door. Do not come out!”

I heard Violet burst into tears, Liam's voice comforting her, their receding footsteps as he pulled her into his room, followed by his bedroom door slamming shut.

Good job, son.

I turned the corner from the foyer into the kitchen and saw Angie.

She was stepping through the broken sliding glass door, a jagged edge clinging to her coat.

Her eyes were wild, smeared with mascara and rainwater, hair plastered to her face like a drowned ghost. She held a metal rod in her hand, her face filled with a determined fury.

But when she saw me, her scowl was replaced with a manic grin.

“You can't hide from me,” she breathed, soaked and panting. “I’ve always known where you live, baby. Always. ”

No shit you crazy bitch. You've been stalking us for months.

Before I had a chance to speak, Rufus lunged. His ferocious barking was cut short as Angie swung her metal rod and cracked him in the ribs.

A sickening thud, a pained yelp, my best boy cowering with his tail tucked. I snapped.

I am killing her now.

The finality of that realization should have unnerved me, but I felt nothing other than incandescent rage. I strode over to her. Anger, fear, and a dozen other raw emotions fused into something monstrous, something unrelenting. Something no longer within my control.

Angie must have seen it on my face because her too-wide grin faltered as she took a step away.

“You break into my home? You hurt my dog? You threatened my Sloane?” I charged, slamming into her with the full weight of everything I’d buried since this nightmare began.

She dropped her metal rod as we crashed through the coffee table, the wood splintering around us.

I mounted her amid the wreckage of the shattered table and she clawed at my face.

“You don’t get to erase me, baby,” she shrieked then laughed. I wasn't sure which sounded more horrifying.

Kill her. Break your promise to Sloane and kill her.

I wanted to. Fuck me, I did…

But I didn't.

It took every ounce of restraint for me to wrap my hands around her wrists instead of her throat.

I pinned her down, easily overpowering her.

Breathing hard, my mind and body were at war between my desire to hurt her and my devotion to keeping my promise to my wife. I took a deep, stuttering breath .

Even if I did decide to kill her, I couldn't do it here; not with my kids upstairs… but, fuck, I wanted to grab a glass shard and ram it into her.

Still laughing, she writhed and bucked under me, gyrating her hips as if this was all twisted foreplay.

I squeezed her wrists as I leaned down and growled, “What in the actual fuck is wrong with you? Did you really think you would get away with this, you crazy psycho bitch?”

Like flipping a switch, her laughter spiraled into crying and her manic anger melted into hysterical delusions. Between sobs she said, “I wanted them to see me. I wanted to show you I still matter.”

I heard sirens in the distance. I was grateful one of the neighbors, or maybe Liam, must’ve called 911.

“I told you to stay away,” I hissed.

“I love you!”

“I never loved you,” I said with a vicious honesty that I hadn't even realized fully until that moment.

I had never loved Angie. The Old Me had loved the fantasy she gave him. Nothing more.

"I never loved you… ever," I added. I was unsure if I'd said it to her or myself.

Those words froze her as the front door burst open, the lock ripping from the wall at the forced entry. I glanced over to see the cops.

Fucking finally. And goddammit, I just changed that lock.

Flashlight beams and shouted commands filled the house. Within seconds they had Angie in cuffs. She was sobbing. One of the officers yelled at me to stay still so I waited.

“Tell Sloane,” she wailed as they dragged her out. “Tell her the truth, baby. The whole truth! ”

The police were quick, dragging her outside with harsh authority. The loud, sharp calls of, "Clear," echoed throughout the house.

My chest ached from my thundering heart, adrenaline still spiking as an officer walked over to me. I raised my hands, desperation in my voice. “Please, I have kids upstairs.”

"You live here, sir?"

"Yes, I've been working with Detective Harlan."

The officer gave a short nod, his eyes flicking over me before he turned to his shoulder radio and relayed the message to his team. A response came back and he motioned for me to get up. "Detective Harlan will be here soon. Go on ahead. Go to your kids."

He gave me the all-clear and I bolted to the stairs, took them three at a time, and found Liam and Violet standing in the hallway, both pale and trembling. Liam had a baseball bat clutched in both hands. Violet’s stuffed fox dangled from one arm.

“I-I tried to protect her,” Liam whispered.

I knelt down. Wrapped them both in my arms. My body shook. “You did good,” I said as I kissed the tops of their heads. “You both did so good.”

All together we walked downstairs, careful of the broken glass, aiming for the kitchen so the police did their work. As we passed the living room, Rufus whimpered nearby.

Oh fuck. Rufus.

I rushed to him, thankful to see him alive. His breathing was heavy and he was curled up… but he was alive. Liam and Violet stood off to the side, holding onto each other near the kitchen table.

Violet's voice broke through, "Is he okay?"

Worry lined my voice but I held steady. "Yeah, baby. He will be. "

I heard my truck pull into the driveway, the door slam, then Sloane yelling at the police.

It sounded as if the cops were trying to keep her out of the house…

which I could have told them was about as useful as a toothpick in a tornado.

I had never heard such an inventive use of curse words until that night, as my fierce and tenacious wife went on a verbal rampage towards us.

She burst through the front door and stormed into the kitchen. When her gaze landed on me and the crying kids, she dropped to her knees without asking a single question. Her hands went straight to them, pulling them close as they clung to her, still trembling from the chaos.

"Oh thank god you two are okay. I love you. It's going to be okay. You're safe." She looked at me then, tears streaking her face, "Levi?"

I didn't know how I looked at that moment, but I gave her the smile she needed to see. "I'm okay Sloane."

She reached for me then. I walked over to them, held them as my heart ached from the catastrophe I’d created. Of what we’d just survived. I could feel the heat of Sloane’s tears against my cheek as I whispered to her, “Rufus is hurt. We need to take him to your work.”

She nodded quickly, her voice hoarse with emotion. “Okay. Okay. Let's - get your shoes, kids.”

I barely heard her as I turned and saw who I assumed was Detective Harlan entering through the busted front door, his face drawn with fatigue. “Mr. Shaw.” His voice was gruff. "I hate to meet in person under these circumstances.”

I shook his hand, forcing a tight smile, trying to hold it together. “Thanks for coming. I understand she’s officially arrested now, right? After all, she seems like a threat to public health. ”

A weary smile tugged at the detective’s lips. “Yes. We’ll take her into custody, Mr. Shaw. You don’t need to worry about that anymore.”

I nodded with relief, but it didn’t take away the dread that was still crawling through my chest. “That’s all I can ask right now. Is there anything else you need from us?”

Detective Harlan glanced around the house, his eyes sweeping over the broken window and the mess. “Honestly, we’ll need to take some pictures of the point of entry. We’ll have a team come help board up the window. Shouldn’t take long.”

I exhaled, trying to process everything, trying to keep myself from falling apart. “Great. Unfortunately, our family dog was injured. We need to take him to the vet. Are we okay to leave?”

The detective nodded. “Of course. Take care of what you need to. We’ll be here for a few hours unfortunately, but in touch if we need anything.”

Turning, I made my way to the kitchen, where Rufus was huddled on the floor, his body trembling. His fur was matted with dried blood. He looked up at me, eyes wide with confusion and pain.

"Easy boy."

I crouched down beside him, gently running my hand through his fur. His breathing was shallow, and I could see how badly he was hurting. I swallowed hard, trying to hold it together for the kids, for Sloane but all I could think about was getting Rufus the help he needed.

“We’re going to get you fixed up, buddy,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

I carried Rufus out to my truck where Sloane and the kids waited, then we sped off to Sloane's work.