Page 6 of Branded Hearts

The drunk guy’s eyes, wild and unfocused, lock onto the young man as he points the weapon at him. The air grows thick withtension; the silence broken only by the desperate pleas of the florist trying to comply with the unfolding nightmare.

“Put it away, mate! We don’t want any trouble!” the young guy stammers, fear making his voice shake. His girlfriend tightens her grip on his shoulder, her eyes begging him to stay calm.

The armed man, fueled by greed and desperation, sneers, slurring his words. “Y’think callin’ the police is gonna help’uh?”

My heart pounds in my chest, fear wrapping around me like a vice. I can’t believe the bravery of this young guy, standing up to the armed man and staying calm enough to call the police. He’s a hero in this terrifying moment, and I silently pray that his courage won’t cost him.

As the tension escalates, the man’s girlfriend squeezes his hand, silently urging him to stay composed. The florist, hands trembling, continues to comply with the demands, her eyes darting between the drunken man and the young couple.

In that harrowing moment, the wailing sirens pierce through the tense air, announcing the arrival of the cavalry. A police car screeches to a halt outside, and two officers rush toward the shop, their expressions stern and determined.

The lady beside me, seeking comfort, inches closer, and I instinctively wrap a hand around her frail shoulder, offering what little reassurance I can. As the police officers burst through the entrance, my adrenaline spikes at the sight of a familiar face. But not just any familiar face... It’s one that has been ingrained in my mind since I was fourteen years old.

Bradley Mitchell.

His authoritative stance emanates a sense of calm amidst the chaos. I shouldn’t be so surprised. I know he’s a police officer, and this is a small town, after all—yet the sight of him always takes my breath away.

Even now, in the midst of this chaos, his presence is electrifying.

Fear and shock still grip me, but a sliver of relief cuts through the terror.

Bradley ishere.

I can’t let myself feel too safe just yet, but seeing him gives me hope that this nightmare might finally end.

The florist’s desperate cries pierce the air, and my heart lurches as I watch the scene unfold. The drunken man sways on unsteady feet, still clutching the knife in a menacing grip. Then, with a clatter, he drops the knife to the floor, following the other officer’s request from earlier—the sound echoing loudly in my ears.

“Drop to the ground, now!” Bradley’s command is firm and urgent, cutting through the tension. The man hesitates, swaying on his feet, his gaze unfocused and unsteady. Sensing the imminent threat, Bradley swiftly draws his taser and fires. The electric crackle fills the air as the man convulses and collapses to the ground, subdued.

In synchronised motion, both officers spring into action. The other officer holsters his gun and approaches cautiously, swiftly kicking the knife out of reach. With practised efficiency, they secure the man, restraining his arms with handcuffs that click sharply into place.

The scene is tense, adrenaline pumping as they immobilise the man swiftly and effectively, ensuring no further danger lingers.

My breath comes in short, nervous gasps as I watch them immobilise him, the gravity of the situation palpable in the air. The other officer meticulously pats him down, checking for any other weapons, but finds none. The sense of relief washes over me as the immediate danger subsides, though the adrenaline still courses through my veins.

“Sir, you are under arrest for attempted armed robbery,” the same officer declares. “You do not have to say or do anything, but anything you say or do will be recorded and used in court as evidence against you. Do you understand this?”

The man nods hurriedly. I remain rooted in place, a tremor coursing through me as shock tightens its grip. Instinctively, I move my hands to comfort the lady beside me, offering a reassuring presence amidst the aftermath of chaos. She glances at me, hands still trembling, with gratitude in her eyes, a silent acknowledgment of shared vulnerability.

Bradley then turns to the officer beside him, who nods, before grabbing the restrained man by his cuffed arms and lifting him up to stand. Bradley pats down the man’s sides, where his pockets are, before pulling out his wallet and opening it up. He extracts the man’s licence and asks for his name and address.

The man mumbles a response, but I can’t quite catch it.

Bradley warns him, “It’s an offence not to give us your correct name and address,” and asks him to repeat it. The man complies,and Bradley nods to the other officer before the man is escorted out of the shop. He then turns to the rest of us.

“Please remain where you are. More officers and paramedics will be arriving shortly,” before following the suspect closely behind, his demeanour focused and professional.

As I watch, two more police cars arrive, their red and blue lights casting an eerie glow across the scene. Additional officers emerge, swiftly joining Bradley. From my vantage point at a safe distance, I observe the controlled chaos unfolding. Some officers are out on the street, surveying the area and ensuring bystanders stay clear, while others manoeuvre to block off the road.

Bradley stands out amidst the flurry of activity, communicating efficiently with the arriving officers. His demeanour is calm and collected, his training evident in every precise movement and in the way he relays information, coordinating the next steps with practised ease. The scene pulses with urgency, yet Bradley’s steady presence lends a reassuring stability. Once the suspect is safely secured in a new car, Bradley returns to the shop, accompanied by a different officer. The new officer, with light brown hair, introduces himself as Detective White before approaching the owner of the shop.

Bradley’s expression is serious as he makes his way over to me, and I find myself still frozen in place, the aftermath of the attempted robbery still lingering in my senses. My mind, in shock and daze, drifts to a memory from years ago.

As everyone talks around me, Olivia animated in her seat beside me, I find it hard to focus on anything other than the boy sitting across from me. Bradley. There’ssomething about him that’s utterly mesmerising. I’ve never been up close to teenage boys before, and I know I shouldn’t be feeling this way, especially about my best friend’s brother. But I just can’t help it. He’s quiet, almost brooding, yet there’s a calm confidence about him that intrigues me. His eyes, a striking shade of blue, catch the light just right, and I find myself stealing glances, trying to understand what lies behind them. His presence is magnetic, drawing me in despite my better judgement. The way he moves, the subtle clench of his jaw as he listens to the conversation around him—it’s all so captivating. I can’t explain why I’m so drawn to him. Maybe it’s because he’s different from the boys at my school, who are loud and brash, always trying to prove something. Bradley seems... grounded, like he knows who he is and doesn’t need to show off. It’s that quiet strength that pulls me in, making me wish I could get to know him better, understand what makes him tick.

But I know it’s wrong.

Still, as I sit across from him, my heart races a little faster, and I can’t shake the feeling that this boy, with his intense blue eyes and quiet demeanour, is someone worth knowing.

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