CHAPTER 3 – THE WOMAN WHO CHOSE TO STAND
CHAPTER 3 – THE WOMAN WHO CHOSE TO STAND
For one impossible second, the elegant dining room became perfectly silent.
The attacker charged through the center aisle, the extended steel baton glinting beneath the chandeliers.
Someone screamed.
Another guest dove beneath a table.
Crystal shattered as chairs crashed backward.
Rafe Calloway moved instantly.
"Celia!"
He shoved his younger sister behind him while reaching beneath his jacket.
Too late.
The attacker had already closed half the distance.
The baton rose.
Its target wasn't Rafe's head.
It was Celia.
A message.
A punishment.
The kind of cruelty Rafe knew all too well.
Only one person saw the angle clearly.
Mav.
She had been carrying a tray of fresh glasses when instinct overpowered thought.
She didn't know who these people truly were.
She only saw a terrified nineteen-year-old girl frozen in place.
The tray slipped from her hands.
Glass exploded across the marble.
"MOVE!"
She ran.
The world narrowed into a single heartbeat.
She slammed both hands against Celia's shoulders.
The young woman stumbled sideways.
The baton changed direction at the last instant.
Instead of crushing Celia's skull—
It struck Mav.
The sickening crack echoed through Saltini's.
Pain exploded through her left shoulder and collarbone.
She heard something break.
Her knees buckled.
But she refused to fall.
Not yet.
With her good arm she wrapped herself around Celia, dragging the trembling girl to the floor.
The second swing came immediately.
Mav twisted.
The steel slammed across her back instead.
White-hot agony stole her breath.
Still she didn't let go.
She pulled Celia closer, covering her completely.
"It's okay..."
Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.
"I'm here..."
Rafe's world stopped.
No one—
No one—
Had ever thrown themselves between violence and a Calloway.
People usually ran away from his family.
This stranger had run toward them.
Rage unlike anything he had felt in years flooded his veins.
The pistol appeared in his hand.
"DOWN!"
The restaurant dropped to the floor.
The attacker spun.
Too slow.
One shot.
The bullet tore through the man's shoulder.
The baton clattered across the marble.
Before the man could recover, Luca and two other guards hit him like a freight train.
Bones cracked.
The attacker was pinned face-first against the floor.
Another guard shouted,
"Second man!"
Near the entrance, the fake delivery driver pulled a knife.
Three security men tackled him before he reached the door.
Within seconds...
It was over.
Except for the blood.
"Celia!"
Rafe dropped beside his sister.
"I'm okay..."
She was sobbing uncontrollably.
"But she—"
Both of them looked down.
Mav was trying to sit up.
She couldn't.
Her left arm hung unnaturally.
Blood stained the back of her uniform.
Her breathing came in shallow, painful gasps.
Yet the first words from her lips were not about herself.
She gently touched Celia's face.
"You're safe..."
Celia grabbed her hand.
"Why?"
Mav looked confused.
"What?"
"Why did you save me?"
A tired smile appeared.
"My little brother..."
She struggled to breathe.
"He's about your age when he gets scared."
Celia whispered,
"I'm nineteen."
Mav chuckled weakly.
"Then maybe...he'll still need someone to protect him...when he's nineteen too."
Her eyes fluttered.
Then she collapsed.
"PULSE!"
"It's weak!"
"Call an ambulance!"
"Now!"
Guests stared in stunned silence.
Several were crying.
Phones recorded everything.
Gerald Moss finally pushed through the crowd.
His first words made the entire room stare at him.
"Who dropped all these glasses?"
Even the paramedic froze.
Moss pointed toward the shattered dining room.
"This damage is expensive!"
No one answered.
He looked at Mav lying unconscious.
"For heaven's sake...is she pretending?"
The silence became unbearable.
Then...
Rafe slowly stood.
The restaurant temperature seemed to drop.
He walked toward Moss.
One measured step at a time.
Moss swallowed.
"You...you're Mr. Calloway, I presume?"
Rafe stopped inches away.
Gray eyes colder than winter fixed on the manager.
"What..."
His voice barely rose above a whisper.
"...did you just say?"
Moss forced a smile.
"I simply meant she should have followed protocol—"
CRACK.
Rafe's fist struck the manager's jaw.
Moss flew backward over a chair.
No one moved to help him.
Rafe spoke without looking away.
"If another word comes out of your mouth before the ambulance leaves..."
He leaned closer.
"...I'll make sure eating through a straw becomes the easiest part of your future."
Moss's lips trembled.
He remained silent.
The ambulance doors closed.
As they pulled away—
Celia stared through the rear window at the unconscious waitress.
"I don't even know her."
May you like
Rafe never took his eyes off the ambulance.
"You will."
