Hayden looked at him without blinking. “My wife trains in self-defense three times a week. If a stranger had forced his way in, she’d have marked his face.”

He lifted Sabrina’s right hand gently. Her nails were clean, unbroken. “She didn’t fight back because someone held her arms — or because she knew the people who came through that door.”

The officer swallowed and glanced at Abraham, who was already crossing the room. That was when Hayden understood: the police weren’t hesitating for lack of evidence.

They were afraid of the Rosales name.

Abraham adjusted his jacket and stepped in with the posture of a man used to being obeyed. “Hayden, you’ve done enough damage never being here to protect her.

My boys and I will handle Sabrina’s care now.”