I rushed forward, dropping to my knees and pulling him into my chest so hard I thought I’d never let go. I buried my face in his hair, feeling his little heart racing against my ribs. “I’ve got you, buddy.

Daddy’s here. You’re safe.”
“Where is Marcus?” I asked, looking up at Arthur, my voice trembling with a mixture of relief and lingering fury.
Arthur didn’t say a word. He simply wiped a drop of blood from his knuckle onto his jeans, leaned over to gently pat Noah on the head, and pointed a heavy, calloused finger toward the open back door that led to the woods behind the property.
Just then, the sound of approaching sirens began to wail in the distance, growing louder by the second. I looked from the broken door to Arthur’s stoic, unreadable face, realizing that the real confrontation hadn’t ended when I walked through the door—it was only just beginning.