Page 144 of Edge of Unbroken

Shane attempts to pull Ronan off Adam, who has his hands up, head turned to the side to shield himself from Ronan’s wrath. “Stop, Ran!”

But Ronan doesn’t let up. He relentlessly beats Adam, crashing his fists into Adam’s head and face to the squelching sound of torn knuckles against raw skin and broken bone.

“That’s enough, man. He’s had enough.” Shane winds his arms over Ronan’s shoulders and around his chest, then pulls Ronan back and off Adam.

Adam hastily scrambles to his feet. His face is marred—bloody, swollen, and bruised—even more so than the last time he and Ronan went at it.

“Fuck, Shay, let me go,” Ronan roars, straining against Shane’s hold on him. Shane is taller than Ronan by a couple of inches. He’s as muscular and conditioned as Ronan—probably even more so now, given Ronan’s long recovery and inability to stay as physically active as Shane—but it takes every ounce of Shane’s effort to keep his grip on Ronan, whose body is tightly wound, his face an angry scowl. Undiluted adrenaline must be pumping through Ronan’s veins, granting him a potent strength even Shane has a tough time reckoning with.

Sirens wail in the distance, coming nearer.

Shane leans back, putting all his weight into keeping Ronan away from Adam. Shane growls at Adam, “Don’t fucking move. They’re coming for you, asshole.”

Adam stumbles backward, spitting blood.

“Let go!” Ronan bellows again, still fighting Shane’s tight hold, his eyes on Adam’s. “I’m going to rip his fucking face off.”

“Ran, stop. You don’t want this!” Shane shouts. “This isn’t you, man.”

I see red and blue lights wind their way down the road. Relief floods me, a tiny whimper breaking from my chest just as Adam whirls around and away from the scene. The sound is enough for Ronan to stop fighting Shane and for his eyes to find me.

His face immediately contorts with anguish. He reaches me in two strides and pulls me against him. “Are you okay, baby? Please tell me you’re okay,” he says with shaky breaths.

I nod and study his face as he studies mine.

“You’re bleeding,” he says, his eyes flitting over my face and body in search of more injuries.

But I’m okay. I don’t even think my nose is broken. What’s more shocking is that, aside from a bloody lip and slight bruise under his left eye, Ronan looks nearly unmarked by the battle he just fought, whereas Adam’s face looked as though he had to tap out of a UFC fight. The knuckles on Ronan’s left hand, however, are swollen and bruised, the skin torn and bleeding.

My eyes flutter shut when Ronan ever so gently wipes my bloody nose with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Does it hurt?” he asks, his voice raw.

“No, I’m fine.” I open my eyes to stare into his, noting the deep worry in them. “Thank you.”

I don’t get a chance to say more with police officers approaching us. I look past Ronan, searching for Adam, and only note a car speeding away. It’s followed by one of the police cruisers giving chase, sirens blaring and lights flashing. He obviously ran, just like he did after he put his last girlfriend in the hospital. I can only hope they catch him this time, that they’ll finally put an end to this whole ordeal.

The five of us spend the next hour answering questions and giving statements. Ronan, Vada, and I each are looked over by a paramedic but are quickly released after we’re determined to have only superficial injuries. Vada came away with a scraped knee, I was given an ice pack for my nose, and Ronan’s left hand is bandaged up. But other than that, we’re all fine. Shaken and exhausted, but fine.

Vada’s dad arrives. After he ensures his daughter’s well-being, he speaks with the police officers, and finally Frank and my mom when they arrive looking bewildered. My mom is crying so hard her mascara has stained her cheeks black. She looks like something out of a horror movie.

“Jesus Christ, Ran, three days. You’ve been home for three days. Fuck, you really know how to scare the absolute living shit out of me,” Frank groans, his tone strained with worry. He carefully moves his hand to Ronan’s jaw, turning Ronan’s face this way and that to get a good look at his son and any injuries. “What the hell happened?”

Ronan exhales noisily through his nose, shaking his head. “I saw this asshole with Cat, his fucking hand on her throat, and I just…” He trails off, pressing his lips together. “I fucking lost it.”

“Frank, from what I’m gathering Adam Mallard was coming for Cat,” Vada’s dad says. “Seems he probably followed Cat here, just waiting for the right time to make his move. We’re lucky Ronan and Shane got here when they did. It’s a clear case of self-defense.”

“Uh, duh,” Vada huffs with an exaggerate eye roll. “That dipshit came right at us, Dad. He shoved me aside to get to Cat. He choked her, Dad!”

Tori nods against Shane’s chest while he holds her against him tightly. “He pulled out his belt. I thought he was going to…”

My mom whimpers, then bumps Frank out of her way and throws her arms around Ronan’s neck with a loud wail. “I can’t thank you enough for keeping her safe,” she cries against him.

“How did you get your bloody nose, Cat? Did Adam hit you?” Mr. Walker asks me.

I shrug. “I don’t know. I… I wanted to get between Ran and Adam. I just… I wanted to get Ran away from him and… I don’t know, I just got hit.”

Ronan groans, a tortured look in his eyes. “Was it me? Did I hurt you?” I wish I was able to tell him “no,” that he didn’t hit me, but I had tunnel vision.

“Adam did,” Shane says. “Pretty sure he meant to hit you, but it happened right when Cat tried to get between you two and he caught her instead. You didn’t hurt her, Ran.” I can’t tell whether Shane truly did witness the hit or if he’s merely trying to absolve his best friend of any guilt, but I appreciate his attempt to ease Ronan’s pain.

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