Page 25 of King of Violence

“Everything okay?” I whisper.

He ignores me as he gathers his stuff. “Okay, I’ll be there in thirty. I’ll have to bike over.”

“I’ll drive you,” I insist.

Felix pauses, a book halfway into his bag. Is that relief on his face? “Actually, my friend said he’ll drive me. Are you sure you don’t want me to call an ambulance? Okay, okay. Bye.”

He hangs up and I scoop his bag and mine onto my shoulder, leading him to my car out front.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“A bookshelf fell on top of my mom. She says she’s fine, but…” His voice cracks.

“What’s your address?”

Ten minutes later we’re pulling up to a small blue house in suburbs. Felix fusses with his keys and runs into the house.

As soon as Felix opens the door, I hear a faint voice from inside.

“Felix, is that you? I’m fine, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

Felix doesn’t waste a second. He’s already running down the hallway toward the sound of his mom’s voice. I follow close behind, stepping into a cozy living room that looks like it came straight out of a homey Pinterest board—crocheted throw blankets, stacks of well-loved books, and picture frames crowding every flat surface.

A small woman with cropped, graying black hair is pinned beneath a toppled bookcase, her face pale but calm. She meets Felix’s frantic gaze with a soft smile. “Really, I’m okay. Just a little stuck.”

Felix drops to his knees beside her, his hands fluttering uselessly as he assesses the situation. “Mom, why didn’t you call for help sooner? Are you in pain? Where does it hurt?”

“I told you, I’m fine,” she says, her tone patient but firm. “Just my wrist, I think. The books were more dramatic than the fall itself.”

I step in before Felix’s panic spirals further. “Let’s get this off her.”

Felix nods, and together, we brace ourselves against the bookcase. It’s heavier than it looks, but we manage to lift it enough for his mother to wiggle out. Felix immediately crouches beside her, inspecting her wrist like he’s suddenly a doctor.

“Does this hurt? What about this? Can you move it?”

“Felix, sweetheart, I’m fine,” she says again.

“Let me see,” I say, crouching beside them and gently moving her wrist, noting her winces of pain. “It’s sprained. We should wrap it to keep it stable.”

Felix looks up at me, his expression a mix of worry and disbelief. “You know how to do that?”

I shrug. “Basic first aid. Comes in handy.”

“See, Felix? He’s handy. You should keep this one around.” His mom chuckles softly. “I’m Annie.”

Felix blushes furiously, which is worth every second of hauling that heavy-ass bookcase.

I smirk. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. I’m Julian.”

“And a gentleman.” Annie laughs.

“Mom!”

I grab a roll of bandages from the first aid kit Felix pulls out of the kitchen. Settling beside Annie, I gently take her wrist in my hands. “This might hurt a little,” I warn.

“You’re already better than Felix,” she jokes, though her smile falters as I begin wrapping.

Felix glares at me. “Be careful.”

---