Rory’s aim didn’t waver, but her mind was working overtime. She could see the wild look in Morrow’s eyes, the slight trembling of his hand as he held the bottle to Jacob’s throat. He was on the edge, teetering between surrender and an act of violence that would forever alter the course of his life.
One wrong move, one misplaced word, could send him over that edge.
“You don’t want to do this, Eli,” she said, keeping her voice steady and calm. “Think about what happens next. You kill him, you’ll spend the rest of your life in prison. Is that what you want? To let him win by throwing your life away?”
A bitter laugh escaped Morrow’s lips, the sound devoid of any real humor. “You think I care about that? About my life?” He shook his head, his grip on Jacob tightening. “You have no idea what this man has done, what he allowed to happen. He deserves this. They all do.”
Jacob, for his part, had gone still in Morrow’s grasp. His earlier bravado seemed to have evaporated, replaced by a fear that made him look every one of his years. The transformation was startling—from raging bull to frightened old man in the space of heartbeats.
“Eli, please,” Jacob wheezed. “I didn’t know. I swear to God, I didn’t know how bad it was. Your father, he…he said it was just discipline. I never meant for—”
“Liar!” Morrow snarled, pressing the bottle closer. A thin line of blood appeared on Jacob’s neck, bright red against his pale skin. “You knew. You all knew, and you did nothing. Hell, you encouraged it!”
Rory could see the situation was spiraling out of control. The tension in the room was palpable, a living thing that threatened to explode into violence at any moment. She needed to de-escalate this and fast.
“Eli, listen to me,” she said, taking a small step forward. “I know about your father, about what happened to you. What was done to you was unforgivable. No child should ever have to endure that kind of pain, that kind of betrayal.”
Morrow’s eyes flickered to her, a hint of surprise breaking through his mask of cold determination. Rory pressed on, seizing the moment of connection.
“But this? This isn’t justice, Eli. This is revenge. And I promise you, it won’t make the pain go away.”
Morrow’s grip on Jacob tightened, but something flickered in his eyes. “You don’t know anything about my pain,” he said, but there was a tremor in his voice that hadn’t been there before.
Rory seized on that moment of vulnerability. “The symbol, Eli. I know what it means.”
Morrow’s eyes widened, surprise momentarily overriding his rage. “How could you possibly—”
“It’s an ancient symbol of justice, isn’t it?” Rory continued, taking a cautious step forward. “Found in some Native American cultures. It represents balance, the settling of debts.”
For a moment Morrow seemed to forget about Jacob, his focus entirely on Rory. “How do you know that?”
“We did our research,” Rory said. “Your mother was Native American, wasn’t she?”
Morrow just stared at her, saying nothing.
“You must miss her a great deal.”
“He…he took her from me.” Morrow’s voice was hoarse and low. “The bastard took her away because she tried to protect me.”
Rory nodded. “I know. And I know about the rope, too. It’s made from hair, isn’t it? Your father’s hair.”
Morrow’s hand trembled, the bottle wavering against Jacob’s throat. “Shut up,” he whispered, but the words lacked conviction.
“You took it after he died,” Rory continued, mentally piecing together the story. “A final act of defiance. Turning the source of your pain into a tool for your revenge.”
Tears welled up in Morrow’s eyes, but his grip on Jacob didn’t loosen. “You don’t understand—none of you do. This has to end. Here. Now.”
“And it will,” Rory said. “But not like this. Give me the bottle, Eli. Let’s end this the right way.”
Time seemed to stretch as Rory waited, her heart thundering in her chest. She could hear Evan calling to her from outside, his voice muffled by distance and the pounding of blood in her ears. She saw the terror in Jacob’s eyes, the trembling of his aged body.
Suddenly, a noise from outside broke the tension. A door slammed, followed by Jenna’s voice, high and panicked. “Dad! Dad, are you okay?”
The momentary distraction was all Rory needed. In a flash, she lunged forward, her hand closing around Eli’s wrist. She twisted, using a move she’d learned in the academy, and the bottle clattered to the floor.
Jacob stumbled away, gasping for air. Eli struggled against Rory’s grip, his face a mask of fury and desperation. “No!” he shouted. “You don’t understand! He has to pay!”
With a sudden burst of strength, he wrenched free from Rory’s grasp. He dove for the broken bottle, his fingers closing around it just as Rory tackled him.
They went down in a tangle of limbs, grappling on the floor. Rory felt the sting of the bottle’s edge slicing her arm, but she didn’t let go. She couldn’t let go.
“Evan!” she shouted, hoping her partner could hear her. “I need backup!”
As they struggled, Eli’s shirt rode up, revealing a scar on his lower back. Rory gasped. The brand was a large uppercase letter G. Eli’s father branded him with his own initial. The ultimate symbol of control.
Eli, noticing what she was looking at, stumbled away and pulled his shirt down, hiding the scar. His face was red, and Rory didn’t think it was entirely from the fight.
“Your father,” she panted. “He branded you, didn’t he?”
Eli stared at her, his eyes going wide. In that brief instant, she saw the scared, abused child he had once been. “He said it would make me strong like him,” Eli whispered, his voice cracking. “That pain was the only way to learn.”
Before Rory could respond, the sound of running footsteps echoed through the house. Eli, hearing this, seemed to realize his time was up. He turned to run.
Rory lunged for him, her hand closing around something as Eli pulled away—a length of braided rope that had been hidden in his jacket. As it unraveled, she saw the unmistakable glint of human hair woven into its strands.
Then Eli was at the window. He looked back once, his eyes meeting Rory’s. Then he was gone, leaping through the glass in a shower of shards.
Rory raced to the window, ignoring the burning in her arm as she watched Eli sprinting across the field, heading for the tree line at the edge of the property.
“Evan!” she yelled, already moving toward the door. “He’s heading east, toward the woods! Cut him off if you can!”
She paused only long enough to make sure Jacob was okay. The old man was slumped in a chair, his daughter hovering over him anxiously.
“Are you alright?” Rory asked quickly.
Jacob nodded, his hand at his throat where a thin line of blood was visible. “I’m fine,” he rasped. “But that boy…what happened to him…I should have known. I should have done something.”
Rory wanted to press further, to understand Jacob’s role in Eli’s tragic past, but there was no time. “We’ll talk later,” she said. “Right now, I need to catch him.”
With that, she was out the door, her feet pounding against the earth as she gave chase.