The Restraining Order

The gun was a black hole in the dim room, swallowing the light, swallowing the air. Iris stared at the muzzle, her mind suddenly, terrifyingly blank. There was no clever retort, no last-minute escape plan. Just the cold certainty of physics.

"Goodbye, Iris," Julian said.

He tightened his grip.

A siren cut through the night, but it was distant, muffled by the storm and the crackle of the fire a mile away. It wasn't for them. It was for the house.

Iris braced herself for the flash.

But instead of a gunshot, there was a sound of shattering glass.

The window behind Julian exploded inward.

Shards rained across the Persian rug. Julian flinched, spinning toward the noise, the gun swinging wide.

"Police! Drop the weapon!"

It wasn't Marcus. It was the officer from the hospital. The one who had driven her to Mercy General. He was crouched on the porch roof, his service weapon leveled through the broken frame.

"Drop it! Now!"

Julian hesitated. For a split second, Iris saw the calculation in his eyes. He could shoot the cop. He could shoot Iris. He could try to run.

But then he saw the second officer climbing through the window. And Marcus, behind them, his face a mask of fury.

Julian lowered the gun. He placed it on the side table, next to his amber drink.

"There's no need for dramatics," he said, smoothing his lapels. "I was just defending my property. This woman broke in."

The first officer climbed into the room, his boots crunching on the glass. He kicked the gun away. "Hands behind your back, Mr. Vance."

"This is a misunderstanding," Julian said, even as the cuffs clicked around his wrists. "My niece is unwell. She set fire to the main house. I found her here, trespassing."

"We'll sort it out at the station," the officer said.

Iris slumped against the wall, her legs giving way. Marcus was there instantly, catching her before she hit the floor.

"I got him," Marcus whispered, his voice rough. "I got him."

"Sabrina," Iris murmured. "Where's Sabrina?"

She looked around the room. The door to the hallway was empty.

Sabrina hadn't fled. She hadn't run to the city.

She was standing at the top of the stairs, hidden by the shadows. Watching.

Iris saw her pale face, her eyes wide and wet.

"Tell them," Iris mouthed. "Tell them the truth."

Sabrina looked at her father, handcuffed and furious. She looked at Iris, broken and bleeding.

Then she turned and walked away. Into the darkness of the upper floor.

The police led Julian out. He walked with his head high, already composing his defense, already spinning the narrative. He didn't look at Iris. He didn't look at the officers. He looked straight ahead, at the future he was still determined to control.

"Ms. Vance?" the second officer said, approaching Iris. "We need you to come with us, too."

"I didn't do it," Iris said, exhaustion pulling at her words. "He set the fire."

"We found gasoline on your clothes, Ma'am. And you fled the hospital. You're a flight risk."

He pulled out his own set of cuffs.

"Wait," Marcus said, stepping between them. "She's the victim here. Look at the basement! Look at the room!"

"We'll investigate everything," the officer said, pushing Marcus aside. "But right now, she's a suspect in an arson case and a fugitive from a 5150 hold."

He grabbed Iris's wrists. The metal was cold against her burned skin.

"Please," Iris said. "Just check the basement. In the main house. Before the water destroys it."

"The main house is a total loss, Ma'am," the officer said, clicking the cuffs shut. "The roof collapsed ten minutes ago."

Iris stared at him. The roof. The attic. The fire had started at the top.

It had burned down.

The diary. The writing on the walls. The pizza box.

Gone.

All of it.

"You've lost, Iris," Julian called from the hallway, his voice echoing up the stairs. "Go home."