Page 65 of Justice

He takes a step closer to the bed, his hands outstretched, fingers twitching with barely restrained eagerness. I clutch Miracle tighter to my chest, an icy tendril of fear snaking down my spine. Christopher moves to block Mr. Evans's advance, his body a solid wall of protection.

"I said no," Christopher repeats, his voice low and threatening. "I don't know what game you're playing, but it ends now. You need to leave, Mr. Evans. Before I make you leave."

Mr. Evans's eyes narrow, a cold, calculated glint replacing the once friendly twinkle. "Don't be ridiculous," he scoffs, his voice dripping with condescension. "I'm merely here to congratulate Elle and see the baby. There's no need for such hostility."

He takes another step forward, his hand darting out to grab the edge of Miracle's blanket. I recoil, a gasp escaping my lips as I yank her away from his grasp. Christopher's arm shoots out, his hand clamping down on Mr. Evans's wrist in an iron grip.

"I won't tell you again," Christopher growls, his face mere inches from Mr. Evans's. "Get out. Now."

Mr. Evans wrenches his wrist out of Christopher's grasp, a snarl twisting his features. In a flash, he darts around the side of the bed, his eyes wild and desperate. I clutch Miracle tighter to my chest, my heart pounding in my ears as I try to scramble away.

Christopher lunges after him, but Mr. Evans is quicker. He reaches out again, his fingers clawing at the air as he tries to grab Miracle. And that's when I see it—the anchor tattoo on his wrist, stark black ink against pale skin.

The world seems to tilt on its axis, my breath catching in my throat as a sickening realization slams into me. That tattoo… it'sthe same one I saw that night in the woods, the night my world shattered into a million jagged pieces.

Memories come flooding back in a dizzying rush: the rough hands gripping my arms, the sour stench of alcohol on hot breath, the searing pain as my innocence was ripped away. And through it all, that anchor tattoo, a twisted mockery of hope and stability.

I let out a choked sob, my arms tightening around Miracle as I try to shield her from the monster before me. "It was you," I whisper, my voice trembling with a mix of terror and rage. "You're the one who… who raped me."

Mr. Evans freezes, his eyes widening for a fraction of a second before a cold, cruel smile spreads across his face. "Took you long enough to figure it out, Elle," he sneers, his voice dripping with malice. "I always knew you were a smart girl."

Christopher's roar of fury fills the room as he tackles Mr. Evans to the ground, his fists flying in a blinding rage. The two men grapple on the floor, knocking over chairs and sending medical equipment clattering to the ground.

I'm frozen in horror, my mind reeling as I try to process the unthinkable truth. The man I trusted, the teacher I looked up to, the one who was supposed to guide and protect me… he was the one who shattered my world, who stole my innocence and left me broken.

Christopher pins Mr. Evans to the ground, his forearm pressed against the man's throat. "You sick bastard," he snarls, his voice shaking with barely contained rage. "I'll kill you for what you did to her."

Mr. Evans lets out a choked laugh, his eyes glinting with a twisted glee. "You can't protect her forever," he rasps, his words laced with venom. "She's mine, and so is that baby. You're just a temporary obstacle."

Christopher's face contorts with disgust and fury, his grip tightening on Mr. Evans's throat. But before he can act on his rage, the door bursts open and my dad walks into the room with Mason, Lane, and Reid behind him.

Their faces are etched with concern and confusion as they take in the chaotic scene before them. The once peaceful hospital room is now a mess of overturned chairs and scattered medical equipment, the air thick with tension and barely restrained violence.

Christopher has Mr. Evans pinned to the ground, his forearm pressed against the man's throat, a look of pure rage and disgust twisting his features. I'm huddled on the bed, clutching Miracle to my chest, my eyes wide with terror and disbelief as I struggle to process the unthinkable truth that has just been revealed.

"What the hell is going on here?" my dad demands, his voice booming through the room as he rushes to my side. He takes in my trembling form, the way I'm clinging to Miracle as if she's my only lifeline, and a flicker of fear crosses his face.

Mason and Reid move to Christopher's side, their postures tense and ready for action. Lane closes the door behind them, his eyes darting around the room, assessing the situation with the sharp instincts of a seasoned protector.

Christopher looks up, his eyes blazing with a fury I've never seen before. "This bastard," he snarls, pressing his forearm harder against Mr. Evans's throat, "is the one who raped Elle. He's been stalking her, and now he's after Miracle."

A collective gasp fills the room, a mix of shock, horror, and blinding rage. My dad's face drains of color, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Mason and Reid exchange a look of grim determination, their jaws set and eyes hardening with cold, lethal intent.

Lane steps forward, his voice low and sinister. "Is this true, Elle? Is he the one who hurt you?"

I nod, a choked sob escaping my lips as the truth spills out in a rush of anguished words. "I recognized his tattoo… the anchor on his wrist. It's the same one I saw that night in the woods. He's been playing us all along, pretending to be my teacher, my friend… but he's a monster."

My dad's face contorts with a rage I've never seen before, a fury so intense it seems to radiate from him in waves. He lunges forward, his hands reaching for Mr. Evans's throat, a growl of pure hatred tearing from his lips.

But Christopher stops him, his voice steady and controlled despite the storm of emotions raging within him.

Christopher's hand shoots out, grasping my dad's arm in a firm grip. "Wait," he says, his voice low and steady, cutting through the chaos like a knife. "We can't do this here. Not like this."

My dad whirls around, his eyes blazing with a fury that threatens to consume him. "Why the hell not?" he snarls, his voice trembling with rage. "This piece of filth deserves to die for what he did to my daughter!"

Christopher meets his gaze, his own eyes hardening with a cold, calculated determination. "I know," he says simply, his words measured and deliberate. "But if we do this here, now, it'll be too quick. Too easy. He doesn't deserve that mercy."

A heavy silence falls over the room, broken only by the ragged breaths of the men surrounding Mr. Evans's prone form. Christopher's words hang in the air, a dark promise of retribution yet to come.

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