DUTY

EIGHT

Not a knock.

A pounding.

Fist against wood. Angry.

It happened fast and still so slowly. Like how one minute snow can seem to pause its falling just to show its beauty, a moment seen from the back seat of a car, heated and safe. That moment gone when the light flashes green and the snow turns violent. Whipping at the windshield, laying ice along the road.

It happened with that same spark of beauty. Roman kicking in our door, his eyes sorrowful and serious, lips set in a stubborn frown. How he took a moment to lock into me and then drag his gaze over the table until he landed on Tom.

I thought I smiled, thought maybe even my hand twitched, signaled for him to join us before I saw it. The vest velcroed to him, the regulation boots and the heinous white block words sprawled over his chest. I read them. I was sure I had, a long slew of gibberish that led to the same betrayal.

He threw something. The light ding registering enough for Hunter to spring into action. Jolting to his feet, slamming Emily back in her chair and so uselessly lunging for Tom.

Another c***k of metal hitting the brand new floors. A thrum. Warbled metal rolling forward. Then a pop and a whine that scraped at the eardrums and the metal textured ball suddenly spouted out smoke.

Tom lurched from his seat, a hand dragging across the leaf patterned runner, the other claiming the hard weapon tucked in his belt. He reached me just as he flipped off the safety tugging me out of shock, shoving us deeper into the room, thumb on the trigger.

I thought I shouted. And I knew I screamed as Tom wound his arm around me. As he yanked my body down.

The edge of my jaw clipped something, the back of the chair maybe. Something unforgiving causing me to jerk my head back into Tom's chest. Pain seared through me as the fog around us thickened, Tom forced the gun into my palm "Leave." He directed. "Leave and I'll find you." He said it in a whisper and skipped the goodbye kiss slipping away from me.

The fog held thick and low along the floor, a sick spicy sweet flavor that made my eyes sting and my throat constrict.

Hunter shouted something as more chairs flipped and I vaguely registered the slamming of doors, shattering of glass.

Loud thumps signaled more joining Roman. More joining the traitor, more to take us all down. To take my husband down.

For a heartbreak I considered it, heeding Tom's words, following Charlie through the house out the back and wherever after that. But as I watched Charlie's lean body tense and begin to sprint, his blonde hair a beacon in the hazy room, I knew that I wouldn't.

I couldn't stop myself from watching him go, letting him put more distance between us, couldn't stop myself from turning away, dropping the gun and running to Roman.

Throwing my hands on his sheathed arms. Hot tears blazing trails down my cheeks as I begged and begged and begged.

The words hardly coming out through my sobs, my mind stuck on Tom. His safety. Praying Hunter got him out and praying that he wouldn't find me.

A face shield, thin reflective plastic starting from mid forehead to the dip of his upper lip allowed a sliver of emotion through. A tremor between Roman's brows, a line poking through.

There and gone.

The bristle of emotion vanished. Roman snapped back into now, the words on his chest, Columbus Police Gang Unit, stronger than anything I could say.

Roman took my arms, and spun me backward, my back pressing tightly against his chest.

From there we watched. Trapped in the doorway as men in matching black, matching block white letters stormed my living room. Rubber roles never sounded louder, feet stomping and people shouting. Orders flew around us, stealing the sobs from my mouth. Roman's grip stayed strong, unyielding on my arms, even as I felt myself slump, felt my limbs heavy and my heart weaken.

Tom, savage and feral, fought on the new angora woven rug as a knee landed where his shoulder blades met. Another man with trembling palms slapped heavy cuffs down around his wrists. Tightening them with a sickening screech.

Dread crept up over me, the muscles of my legs spasmed and quit. Roman's grasp harshening, he held me up there pulling me in tighter, winding his arm around me chest like a lock.

His chest rose and fell evenly. This was what he expected, he'd planned on seeing my husband get bit by metal, planned on watching Hunter fight through men, watch him scream to his wife, snarl for the police to get away from her.

He had planned on watching two stiff browed men escort Charlie back through the fog and out the front door. My heart skipped as Elle's knees met the floor, head dipping low, hair hiding her tear streaked face. Roman, heartless and cruel, remained steady as his sister succumbed to her own handcuffs.

I leaned into him, craning my neck and unbelievingly saw him unflinching. Stoic even. My knees locked and took their moment to give out as a flash of a cold whip lashed at my heart. His sister. Roman has skipped dinner, planned the raid on us all while knowing who would be in attendance.

Where would he draw the line? Seeing his mother cuffed? His grandmother?

And yet not me.

In all the time it took for the full force of the gang unit to do their job, Roman never let the burning cold brush of metal touch me. His hands caging me in holding me together while my world crumpled.

As my closest friends, those I'd grown to love felt the brunt stick of the law snap down on them.

And Jared. . . Jared watched. Half satisfied, half not, as cuffs clicked around his wrists and a woman with high cheekbones read him his Miranda rights. And that sweet spicy fog grew acrid and repulsive as I let it drag me under.