Chapter 8 - The Father's Arrival
A silver sedan slammed its brakes on the pavement outside. The car door flew open, and Mark rushed up the front steps, his suit jacket discarded, his tie loosened, and his eyes wild with desperate fear for his son.
"Noah! Noah!" Mark screamed as he burst through the open front doorway.
Mark rounded the entryway corner into the living room, his eyes scanning the scene instantly: Travis cowering on the sofa, the metal bat lying across the floor, and Derek standing tall in the center of the room holding Noah.
"Dad!" Noah cried out, reaching his small arms toward his father.
Mark fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around his son as Derek gently handed the boy over. Mark buried his face in Noah’s neck, tears streaming down his face as he held his child tight, checking his arms, his head, and his hands for injuries.
"I'm so sorry, Noah... I'm so sorry I wasn't here," Mark sobbed, kissing his son's forehead repeatedly. "I'm here now. Nobody is ever going to hurt you again."
After several long seconds of holding his son, Mark’s protective instinct flared. He looked over Noah's shoulder toward Travis sitting on the couch, his eyes filling with rage.
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Mark started to stand up. "You coward... touching a four-year-old child—"
"Mark, stop," Derek interrupted firmly, placing a heavy hand on his brother's shoulder. "Don't touch him."
