The video played in grainy black and white, but the details were clear enough.
Demarcus stumbling through Salome's front door. Drunk. Angry. His voice raised even though the audio was muted—Malachi could see it in the way his mouth moved, the aggressive gestures, the way Salome backed up instinctively.
Then Demarcus grabbed her.
Not her wrist this time.
Her throat.
Malachi's entire body went rigid. His hand tightened around the phone so hard the screen protector splintered under his thumb.
On the video, Salome clawed at Demarcus's hand, her face twisting in pain and fear. He shoved her against the wall. Hard. Her head snapped back against the drywall.
Malachi's vision tunneled.
The video continued. Demarcus's other hand went to Salome's waist, yanking at her shirt. She fought back—
