Marcus unclipped the leash.
“Shield,” he said calmly.
The dog moved instantly, placing himself between Evelyn and Grant, teeth bared, stance protective, while Marcus stepped forward, boots echoing with a sound that felt like judgment.
“You want to explain,” Marcus said quietly, “why a disabled woman is bleeding on the floor.”
Grant scoffed, masking unease. “She assaulted my fiancée and destroyed private property.”
Marcus looked at Evelyn, then at the coffee-stained bag, then back at Grant.
“She weighs ninety pounds,” Marcus replied. “You shoved her like a linebacker.”
Lydia scoffed. “Who are you, her lawyer?”
Marcus didn’t answer immediately.
He knelt beside Evelyn, voice softening. “Ma’am, don’t move. Help is coming.”
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