Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
"Should I stay?" I ask, but we're already pulling away from the house.
Cottonwood House isn't far, and it only takes us four minutes to get to the property.
"Something in the water," Shadow says as we pull up to find Legacy in a brawl with a big guy.
I don't wait for the SUV to stop before ripping off my seatbelt, opening my door, and heading that way.
Legacy is holding his own, but this guy seems strong as hell. They aren't so much fighting, even though fists are flying. It's more like a fucking wrestling match.
I run up, grab the guy from behind, my hands wrapped around his throat, and pull him off my teammate, not hesitating a second to shove him to the ground and pin him in place. He's startled, unaware that anyone else was even there, and that gives me an advantage.
I don't think about my actions until I flip him over and force my knee into his back as I pin his arms.
He's sweating and cussing, but a lot of the fight is gone considering how long they have been going at it.
"Don't hurt him!"
With him restrained and unconcerned about him still being a threat, I look over my shoulder, seeing a woman I've never seen before sobbing on the front porch.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" I growl.
There's a boy, or a young man by the looks of him, standing beside her, tears streaming down his face.
Cottonwood House is the place where women with older males go. Although I've never worked a shift at this house, I've prepared and know that the wife, Carla, and son, Sean, have endured years of abuse from this man.
The fact that she can still be worried about him makes something rage inside of me.
Their son already has the deck stacked against him. Not all boys who are subject to abuse at a young age become abusers, but it's a risk factor, increasing the likelihood over boys who weren't abused.
Having a mother who will defend the abuser also increases that chance.
"I'll fucking kill you," the man growls, getting a second wind.
"Please," the woman begs as I pull out a pair of flex-cuffs and put them on him.
I stand him up, waiting for him to act in a way that would allow me to put him right back on the ground.
As out of control as some of Cerberus might think I am, I'm always in control. I always think before I act. I'm just never worried about the consequences, and maybe that's the side of me that Kincaid wants me to reevaluate as situations occur.
"I'll fucking kill all of you," the man growls, his eyes directed at his wife and son.
The boy stands a little taller, ignoring the tears running down his face as he shifts and steps in front of his mother.
I see a lot of myself in that young man, wishing I didn't. I wouldn't want any person to have to experience the things I did as a child growing up in an abusive home.
As many steps as Cerberus is taking to help these women, I know full well that although we may be able to make a few changes for some of them, there are increasingly more we won't be able to help.
"You think you're a man now, boy?" the guy snaps. "Step off that porch and be a fucking man then!"
I spin the guy around, blocking his view of his family, and look over at Legacy. He's bent over, hands on his knees, sweat pouring down his face.
"Thanks, man," he says, out of breath. "He's a big fucker."
Sirens fill the air, the police response to this situation taking longer than the one earlier.
The cops bail out of their cars as if they were the first ones on scene and rush toward me.
"Waylon," the first cop in front of me says. "We've been over this."
I take a step back once the cop grabs Waylon's arm, irritation growing stronger and stronger as they walk that man to the patrol car.
If the cops know him by fucking name, then they've had more than a few interactions with him. I'll never understand the fucking law and court systems that continually allow these men a chance to repeatedly hurt their families. It shouldn't happen at all. The first time abuse is reported, they should never see the light of day again.
"Why are you doing this to him?" the woman yells from the porch.
I look up to see the boy holding her arm and preventing her from stepping onto the porch. He says something to her, causing her shoulders to slump before he manages to get her back into the house.
"His gun," Legacy says, pointing to the grass.
The second cop sighs as if he's burned out with his job before getting on his radio and calling in detective support.