Jack took a step closer—face twisted with rage, hand rising fast, palm open, aimed straight for Mira's cheek.
"Bitch, don't act like I'm wronging you—"
I moved before anyone could blink.
I stepped between them—fast, deliberate—catching Jack's wrist mid-swing. My grip was iron—unyielding—but controlled. Not enough to bruise, just enough to stop him cold.
"What are you doing?" I asked—voice low, calm, but carrying the kind of quiet threat that made the air feel heavier.
Jack's eyes widened—shock flashing across his face before fury roared back. He tried to yank his arm free. I didn't let him.
He shoved forward instead—chest bumping mine, face inches away.
"So you adulterous couple…" he snarled, spittle flying. "Defending your whore now? Can't stand to see your lover get hit, right?"
The word whore landed like a physical blow. Mira flinched—hard—body jerking as if struck. A choked sob escaped her throat. Nicole whimpered louder, burying her face in her mother's side.
