"You're here?" Barnabas spat. He took a jagged step forward. "Why the hell are you with him?"
I felt Jeremiah’s grip tighten on the handles of my wheelchair. I could feel the heat radiating off him.
"You have no right to show up here like this, Barnabas," I said, my voice steady despite the spike of adrenaline.
Barnabas didn't listen. He lunged forward and grabbed Jeremiah’s collar, his knuckles white. "Stay away from my wife!"
Jeremiah didn't even look worried. He reached up, peeled Barnabas’s fingers off his shirt with terrifying ease, and gave him a hard shove. Barnabas went staggering back against the wall.
"Control yourself," Jeremiah warned. His voice was low, like a growl.
"She’s mine. She's my wife," Barnabas yelled, his voice cracking.
"No, Barnabas," I said, and my voice w
