Chapter 4
Cora walked cautiously onto the court, her sneakers squeaking faintly against the green surface. She kept a wide berth around Miles, her eyes fixed entirely on Damon. She held out her smartphone, the screen glowing brightly in the afternoon sun.
"Press play," Damon instructed softly, shifting Hazel’s weight to his left hip.
Cora tapped the screen. The high-definition video began to play. The audio of Evelyn’s cruel laughter filled the tense air between them.
"If one ball makes her cry, give her the whole basket," Evelyn’s recorded voice echoed from the small speaker.
The video clearly showed Miles stepping up to the machine, his hands physically adjusting the heavy plastic barrel, pivoting it directly toward the cowering three-year-old girl. Evelyn stood right beside him, her thumb repeatedly mashing the red button on the remote.
"Give me that phone!" Miles roared, his rosy face turning a violent shade of red.
Miles lunged for Cora.
He didn't make it halfway.
Damon moved with explosive, terrifying speed. He gently but firmly pushed Cora behind his back with his right arm. As Miles closed the distance, Damon stepped forward, planted his polished leather shoe on the asphalt, and drove one explosive punch straight across Miles’s jaw.
The sound of bone cracking against knuckles echoed across the private court.
Miles’s head snapped sideways. His eyes rolled back into his head as his feet left the ground. He spun backward, his arms flailing, and crashed headfirst into the rolling racket rack parked by the fence.
"Miles!" Evelyn shrieked.
The heavy metal rack tipped sideways with a deafening crash. Dozens of expensive tennis rackets slid from their slots, clattering against the hard court. Foam grips scattered in every direction like dead leaves. Empty ball baskets bounced away, rolling across the pristine green surface as Miles collapsed in a heap beside the wreckage, completely unconscious.
Two bodyguards in professional dark suits rushed out of the VIP lounge, their hands reaching inside their jackets.
"Stand down," Damon ordered, his voice low and perfectly controlled.
The bodyguards froze instantly, keeping their hands visible.
"Take my daughter," Damon said, looking at the lead bodyguard.
"Yes, Mr. Lockwood." The bodyguard stepped forward, gently taking the crying Hazel from Damon’s arms. "Come here, little one."
"Keep her beside Cora," Damon instructed, his chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. He adjusted the cuffs of his dark tailored suit, exposing the negative-space tattoos on his wrists. "Do not let anyone near them."
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"What did you do?!" Evelyn screamed, falling to her knees beside her brother’s unconscious body. "You broke his jaw! He’s bleeding!"
"He is breathing," Damon said, his cold eyes looking down at his fiancée. "Which is more than he deserves."
