Page 61 of Power

He didn’t move. Just stared at me with those dead eyes, calculating.

“There’s an active restraining order against you,” I continued, gaining momentum. “And there are cameras positioned there, there, and there.” I pointed without looking away from his face. “Did you think I wouldn’t do my own reconnaissance to make sure if you ever showed up, you would be caught? You use that knife, you’re done. You’ll spend the rest of your life in prison.”

His nostrils flared. “You’ve always been a tumultuous little bitch.”

“And you’ve always been the biggest coward.” The words tasted like victory on my tongue.

His other hand, the one I hadn’t been hyper-fixated on, moved in a blur. A flash of movement I didn’t have time to counter. An explosion of pain rocketed across my cheekbone, sending me flying to the ground. The concrete scraped my palms raw as I caught myself, ears ringing, vision swimming.

Before I could even process what happened, a fresh blur—this time one from the street—flashed before me.

My father hit the sidewalk with a grunt, a tangle of limbs and curses.

A Good Samaritan had tackled him, I realized through the haze of pain. And that Good Samaritan was now punching my father. Repeatedly. Viciously. Each impact making a sickening sound that somehow felt like justice. The problem was, my father swung back, knocking the man off him and to the ground.

As I struggled to my feet, my father reached for his fallen knife, but I kicked it out of his way, sending it flying against the building.

The stranger wrestled my father to the concrete again, justoutside the glow of the streetlight. As I pulled my cell out, ready to call the police, I realized there was something familiar about the gait of the stranger. He was wearing a suit. Expensive by the looks of it, now being ruined on the dirty sidewalk.

One last punch. One last crack across my father’s face that made him groan and finally stop fighting back. And then the Good Samaritan stood, fists clenched, chest heaving, before finally turning to me.

My stomach bottomed out.

“Jace?”

32

SCARLETT

After my father jumped up and fled (I told you he was a goddamned coward), Jace stood in his three-piece suit between me and where he’d vanished, arms at his sides, a human shield against whatever danger might return.

Strange. Even in this moment of absolute chaos, my heart registered his act of protection and how much he must care to have intervened. I mean, hell, I didn’t know why he was here, but I was grateful he’d shown up when he did. That was for damn sure.

And appreciating his protection didn’t make me weak. After watching my mother take a beating for years, I’d learned the hard way that sometimes, you couldn’t keep yourself safe without support. Case in point, the help I was giving my mother.

In any event, I’d always felt like I had to be the shield. I’d never had anyone shield me.

Until now. And God help me, I liked it. Okaaay, file that underUncomfortable Emotional Revelations I’ll Deal with Never.

Jace’s eyes blazed with a fury that wasn’t directed at me but felt scorching, nonetheless.

“You okay?” His voice was steel.

I turned to find Mom shivering, arms wrapped around herself, but physically unharmed.

“Hey,” I said, grabbing her by the shoulders. “It’s okay, Mom. He’s gone.”

“He found us,” she whispered, her voice small.

“It was only a matter of time before he found my apartment.” I squeezed her shoulders gently. “You’re safe. Your apartment isn’t in our name, remember?”

Her eyes remained glued to the spot where my father had disappeared, shimmering with tears, her nose red, but after a moment, she nodded. Affording me the opportunity to turn back around and face our unexpected protector.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

It was like he didn’t even hear me. His attention was too busy scouring my body, presumably for any signs of injuries, until finally, his gaze halted on my cheek.

“Fuck.” The single word carried concern and anger, and dare I say, it bordered on desire for vengeance. He brought his hand up, his lips hardening to a firm line as he swiped his thumb along my cheekbone.