17. Echoes of Conflict
Chapter 17
Echoes of Conflict
Liam
M y phone buzzes on my desk, and Hannah’s name lights up the screen. A smile tugs at my lips. She’s been at work all day and we haven’t talked. She must be home now. I click on her name and it feels like my heart drops out of my body. Just one word and it sends a chill all the way to my bones.
Hannah
Help
I shove back from my chair, papers scattering across the floor. “Warren! Mac!” My voice booms through the shop as I sprint for the door.
The afternoon sun blinds me for a split second before my eyes adjust. Hannah’s driveway comes into focus—and there they are. Charlie towers over her, his stance predatory and familiar. The bastard’s done this before, cornered her like prey.
Fuck .
My feet pound against the pavement as I race down the road. I’m not going to make it. The thought barely registers before Charlie’s fist connects with Hannah’s face. The sound of the impact carries across the distance between us.
Hannah crumples to the ground like a rag doll, and something inside me snaps. A roar tears from my throat—pure rage and horror mixing together as I watch the woman I love lie motionless in her own yard.
Behind me, boots scrape against the pavement as my brothers follow. But I can’t focus on anything except getting to Hannah, closing this distance that suddenly feels endless.
Red bleeds into the edges of my vision. My legs pump faster, pavement burning under my feet. Charlie grabs Hannah’s hair and he starts dragging her toward the house. Each step drives splinters deeper into my heart.
“Get your fucking hands off her!” The roar tears from my throat, feral and raw.
Charlie’s head snaps up. His grip loosens just enough for Hannah to slump to the ground. She’s unconscious, blood trickling from her split lip.
I don’t slow down. My shoulder connects with Charlie’s sternum, driving him back. We hit the ground hard, my weight pinning him. The impact jars through my bones but I barely feel it. All I can see is Hannah’s blood, all I can hear is the crack of his fist hitting her face.
“You piece of shit.” I snarl, driving my fist into his face. Bone crunches under my knuckles. “You think you can come here? Think you can hurt her?”
Charlie spits blood, his smile turning cruel. “What’re you gonna do, Mutter? You have no power here, no say in anything that happens.” He laughs, the sound grating. “My family owns this county. One call and you’ll be the one in cuffs for assault.”
“Try it.” Another punch punctuates my words. “Give me a reason.”
He bucks underneath me, trying to throw me off. I shift my weight, using every trick I learned in countless backyard brawls with my brothers or in fights against the Koch brothers. Charlie may have money and connections, but I grew up fighting to survive.
“She’s mine.” He hisses through bloody teeth. “Everything she has is because of me. What can you offer her? A grease monkey’s salary? A falling-down house?”
The words hit harder than they should. Old insecurities rise up—the same ones that made me push Hannah away thirteen years ago. I wasn’t good enough then. I still worry that I may not be now.
Charlie seizes the moment of hesitation. His knee drives up into my ribs as he twists, reversing our positions. Pain explodes through my side.
“Face it.” He sneers, raining blows. “You’re nothing. A nobody from a family of nobodies. Hannah knows it too. Why do you think she chose me?”
Something snaps inside me. Not rage—something colder, sharper. Every hit I’ve pulled, every careful line I’ve walked… none of it matters. This man hurt Hannah. He terrorized my son. He doesn’t get to walk away this time.
I catch his next punch, twisting until tendons creak. “She didn’t choose you.” My voice comes out deadly calm. “I pushed her away. Biggest mistake of my life.”
Before he can respond, I drive my head up into his nose. Cartilage gives with a wet crunch. He reels back, cursing, and I follow. Each punch lands with surgical precision, powered by years of regret and helpless rage.
“You don’t own her.” Crack . His jaw. “You don’t own Cam.” Thud . Solar plexus. “You don’t own anything anymore.”
Sirens wail in the distance, growing closer. I barely hear them over the thunder of blood in my ears. Charlie’s face is a mess of red, but his eyes still burn with hate.
“I’ll always own them.” He chokes out. “You really think you can protect them? Where were you ten minutes ago when I had my way with her.”
The words weigh heavy on my heart and guilt creeps in. He got one punch in and I wasn’t here to stop it. But I’m here now.
Strong hands grab my shoulders, trying to pull me back. Warren and Mac, their voices urgent but distant. “Liam, stop! He’s not worth it!”
I shake them off, vision tunneling to Charlie’s smug face. Even beaten bloody, he looks triumphant. Like he’s won something.
“You’re right.” I growl. “You got one hit in. But I’m here now and you’re going to pay for that hit.”
Charlie laughs—a wet, choking sound. “You really think it’s that easy? One beating and I disappear?” He pushes up on his elbows, swaying. “I have lawyers. Connections. One word from me and social services starts asking questions. How stable is a single mother, really? Living in a run-down house, working for minimum wage. She can barely afford groceries without my money.”
An icy grip takes hold of my soul. He wouldn’t. But looking into those cold eyes, I know he would. He’d spend every dime of his parents’ money to destroy Hannah’s life just to prove he could.
“And Cam?” Charlie continues, voice dripping with poison. “Poor kid, stuck between a lying whore and a deadbeat dad who didn’t want him. Maybe he’d be better off with a real father.”
Something inside me shatters.
I lunge forward, breaking free of my brothers’ grip. Charlie’s eyes widen a fraction before my fist connects. His head snaps back, blood spraying. But he recovers fast. I’m actually impressed. I didn’t think he had this much fight in him.
We collide like freight trains, all technique forgotten in favor of raw savagery. His knee finds my ribs again, stealing my breath. My elbow catches his temple, making him stagger. We roll across the grass, trading blows, neither willing to yield.
“I’ll kill you.” He pants, fingers clawing for my throat. “I’ll destroy everything you love.”
I grab his wrist, twisting until bones grind together. “You won’t touch them.” Each word comes out like a hammer strike. “You won’t look at them. You won’t think about them.”
His other hand shoots up, catching me across the jaw. Stars explode behind my eyes. I taste copper, feel warmth trickling down my chin. But the pain is distant, secondary to the burning need to end this.
Charlie uses the moment to throw me off, scrambling to his feet. Blood makes his teeth look sharper as he grins. “What’s wrong, Mutter? Afraid I’ll tell everyone what a piece of shit you are? How you fucked my fiancée, knocked her up? Left her to marry a real man?”
“Shut up.” The words come out thick, distorted by my swelling jaw.
“Or maybe I’ll tell Cam. Let him know what kind of father he really has.” Charlie circles, looking for an opening. “A coward who couldn’t step up. Who let his mother suffer for twelve years because he was too weak to—”
I don’t let him finish. My shoulder drives into his midsection, lifting him off his feet. We crash through Hannah’s flower bed, crushing carefully tended petunias. She just planted those , some distant part of my mind notes.
Charlie’s elbow catches my temple, sending fresh pain shooting through my skull. But I hang on, riding out his struggles until we both collapse. My fingers find his throat, squeezing.
“Listen carefully,” I growl, leaning close. “You don’t get to speak about Hannah. You don’t get to speak about Cam. You don’t get to breathe the same air as them.”
His face starts turning purple, but his eyes still gleam with malice. One hand scrabbles at my grip while the other fumbles in his pocket. Metal glints—
“Liam, knife!”
Warren’s warning comes a split second too late. Fire races across my ribs as the blade opens a shallow cut across my chest. I release Charlie’s throat, rolling away. I press my hand to my chest and it comes away covered in blood.
I stare down at my chest as blood seeps into my shirt. I feel no pain. Just fury and the desire to end Charlie’s life.
It doesn’t take me more than a few seconds before I respond to his latest effort. If I don’t kill him after this, he’ll face a lot more jail time now. Not only did he violate the restraining order and hit Hannah, this is assault with a deadly weapon.
Charlie is done. His parents can’t save him after this.
I get to Charlie before he can swing the knife at me again. My foot stumps down on his wrist and I grab him by his shirt. I punch him again and again—fists rain down on his face, each impact sending shockwaves up my arms. Blood splatters across my knuckles but I can’t stop. Won’t stop. Not after what he did to Hannah. Not after pulling a knife on me.
The rage burning through my veins drowns out everything else—the shouts of my brothers, the approaching sirens, even Charlie’s pained grunts as I pound into him.
“I’ll fucking kill you!” The words tear from my throat, raw and primal. “You touch her again and I swear to God—”
“Liam!” Warren’s voice cuts through the red haze. “The cops are close. You need to stop.”
Hands grab my shoulders, trying to pull me back. I resist, every muscle straining to inflict more damage on the monster beneath me. Charlie’s face is a mess of blood and bruises, but his eyes still gleam with that same cruel arrogance. Even now, he thinks he’s won.
“Get off me!” I snarl, shrugging off Warren’s grip. But Mac joins in, and together they manage to haul me to my feet.
Charlie staggers upright, spitting blood onto the ground. His expensive suit is ruined, torn and stained. Good.
“You’re dead, Mutter.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a crimson streak. “When my lawyers are done with you—”
I lunge for him again but my brothers hold me back. The sound of sirens grows louder, piercing through the anger clouding my thoughts. Red and blue lights flash at the end of the road.
Hannah .
The rage recedes enough for me to remember why I’m here. I spin around, searching frantically. She’s still on the ground where Charlie left her, starting to stir. Relief floods through me when I see her moving, but it quickly turns to horror as I take in the angry red mark blooming across her cheek.
I try to go to her but Warren and Mac maintain their grip. “Let me check on her,” I growl.
“In a minute,” Warren says quietly. “You need to calm down first. The cops will want statements.”
He’s right, damn him. I force myself to take deep breaths as the first police car pulls up, followed by an ambulance. The familiar figure of Ricky Warner steps out, already reaching for his cuffs. Thank God it’s him responding and not one of Charlie’s bought cronies.
“What happened here?” Ricky asks, though his stern expression suggests he already knows.
“Violation of restraining order and assault,” Warren answers before I can. “Charlie Fisher attacked Hannah. Punched her right in the face. Then he pulled a knife on Liam. We witnessed it.”
Ricky nods grimly and approaches Charlie, who’s somehow managed to straighten his spine despite the beating I gave him. “Mr. Fisher, turn around please. You’re under arrest.”
“This is ridiculous.” Charlie protests, but offers no resistance as Ricky cuffs him. “She attacked me . And then her guard dog here—” he jerks his head toward me “—jumped me. I want to press charges.”
“Save it for your lawyer.” Ricky starts reading Charlie his rights while another officer I don’t recognize leads him to the waiting patrol car.
The paramedics rush to Hannah’s side, and finally my brothers release me. I stumble toward her, my heart clenching at how small and vulnerable she looks sitting there. One EMT shines a light in her eyes while another takes her blood pressure. The bruise on her cheek has darkened to an ugly purple.
My legs give out and I drop to my knees beside her. “Hannah.” My voice cracks as tears blur my vision. “I’m so sorry. I should have been here sooner. I should have protected you better.”
She reaches for my hand, her fingers trembling but her grip strong. “Don’t. You came when I needed you. You stopped him from—” She breaks off, shuddering.
“But look what he did to you.” I ghost my fingers over her bruised cheek, careful not to actually touch it. “I promised he’d never hurt you again and I failed. Just like I failed you before.”
“No.” Her voice is quiet but firm. “You didn’t fail me, Liam. You saved me. Again.” Her eyes meet mine, bright with unshed tears. “If you hadn’t shown up when you did—”
The EMT interrupts, asking Hannah to follow his finger with her eyes. I sit back on my heels, giving them space to work while staying close enough to touch her. My hands are shaking—covered in blood, Charlie’s blood—adrenaline still coursing through my system. Now that the rage has faded, I notice the sting of split knuckles, my slashed chest, and what feels like a cut above my eye.
“Could have a mild concussion.” The paramedic concludes after finishing his examination. “No signs of serious trauma but you’ll need to take it easy for a few days. Watch for increased dizziness, severe headache, or changes in vision. If any of those occur, go straight to the ER.”
Hannah nods, then winces at the movement. The EMT turns his attention to me, cleaning the cut on my forehead with antiseptic that burns like hell.
“This should really have stitches,” he says, probing the edges of the wound.
I wave him off. “Just bandage it.”
He sighs but complies, taping a gauze pad in place. He looks down at my bloodied shirt and asks, “Did he cut you?”
I nod. “It’s fine. I don’t feel a thing.”
He sighs again. “Take your shirt off and let me see.”
I comply and he takes one look at the shallow gash across my chest and says, “That really needs stitches too.”
I shake my head. “Just clean it. It’s not that bad.”
He doesn’t look happy with me but he does as I requested. When he takes a bottle of clear liquid and squirts it on the cut, I wince.
“Sorry, I guess I should have told it this was alcohol.” He grabs some gauze to clean it. Once he’s satisfied, he starts pulling the skin together and uses butterfly bandages to hold it together.
While he works, I hear the familiar sound of the school bus engine. Shit . Cam.
The bus stops at the corner and sure enough, Cam comes sprinting toward us as soon as the doors open. His backpack bounces against his shoulders, face pale with fear as he takes in the emergency vehicles and flashing lights.
“Mom!” His voice cracks with panic. “What happened? Are you okay?”
Hannah opens her arms and he crashes into them. “I’m fine, honey. Everything’s okay now.”
“Was it him ?” Cam demands, pulling back to examine her face. His expression darkens when he sees the bruise. “I’ll kill him.”
“Hey.” I grab his shoulder gently, turning him to face me. “None of that. Your mom’s right—everything’s handled. Charlie’s been arrested and he’s not getting out this time.”
Cam’s jaw clenches in a way that reminds me painfully of myself at his age. “You promise?”
“I’ll do everything within my power to make sure.” I squeeze his shoulder. “Why don’t you head inside while we finish up out here? Your mom will be right in.”
He hesitates, clearly reluctant to leave Hannah’s side. But after she gives him a reassuring nod, he trudges toward the house, shooting worried glances over his shoulder.
Ricky approaches once the paramedics finish with us, notebook in hand. “Need your statements while everything’s fresh. Hannah first, if you’re up for it?”
She describes how Charlie ambushed her in her driveway, threatened her, then attacked when she tried to call for help. Her voice stays steady but I can see her hands trembling. Without thinking, I reach over and lace my fingers through hers. She squeezes back hard.
Then it’s my turn. I explain how I got her text for help, rushed over with my brothers, and found Charlie assaulting her. I admit to attacking him but argue it was a necessary force to protect Hannah. I explain how Charlie also attacked me and then pulled out a knife. Ricky takes detailed notes, his expression giving nothing away.
“Assault with a deadly weapon.” Ricky shakes his head with a slight uptick to his lips. “Between this and the previous violation of the restraining order, Charlie’s looking at serious jail time,” he says finally, closing his notebook. “His family’s influence only stretches so far. The DA’s office is getting tired of cleaning up his messes.”
Relief floods through me. “So he’s actually going away this time?”
“Should be. The evidence is pretty damning, especially with multiple witnesses.” Ricky jerks his chin toward where Warren and Mac are giving their statements to the other officer. “But you might want to lawyer up yourself, just in case. Charlie’s definitely going to try pressing charges for the beating you gave him. Though I doubt it will matter much considering the cut on your chest.”
I nod grimly. Worth it, if it means keeping Hannah safe.
“Thank you,” Hannah says softly. “For everything.”
Ricky tips his hat. “Just doing my job, ma’am. We’ll be in touch about formal charges.” He heads back to his cruiser, leaving us alone as the emergency vehicles begin to clear out.
I help Hannah to her feet, steadying her when she sways slightly. “Let’s get you inside. You need to rest.”
She leans against me as we walk to the house, and I try not to read too much into it. She’s just unsteady from the concussion, that’s all. But having her warm weight pressed against my side feels right in a way I can’t explain.
The front door opens before we reach it, Cam hovering anxiously in the doorway. His eyes dart between us, lingering on the bandage on my forehead and the bruise on Hannah’s face. The fear and anger in his expression makes him look older than twelve.
My son . This brave, protective boy who’s seen far too much violence in his young life—he’s mine. And I wasn’t there to shield him from any of it.
Hannah stumbles slightly on the front step and both Cam and I reach to steady her. Our eyes meet over her head and something passes between us—understanding, maybe. Or forgiveness.
We guide Hannah inside together, united in our need to protect her. To make sure nothing like this ever happens again.
But as I close the door behind us, Charlie’s words echo in my mind. You’re dead, Mutter .
I fear this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.