Callie’s POV
I realized that a slight push was enough to swing the door wide open.
On the worn-out table in the living room lay the reason for the fight, displayed openly—enough to give any curious cop passing through the neighborhood a reason to make an arrest. But I wasn’t there for that. I didn’t care.
What I wanted—what made my blood boil—was something else entirely.
A girl, only a few weeks pregnant, was about to be brutally attacked.
And I had the means to stop it.
I knew it.
It felt like a cry from within my own body—the same force that had wanted to take it out on Martin’s car.
Determined, I headed toward the back of the house, toward the kitchen where the man’s voice was coming from.
“If you do it, I’ll smash your face into a thousand pieces,” I said just as his fist rose
