"Technically speaking, both of us were attacked," Leo said, pointing toward his house. On the wooden steps by the door, Maria was comforting Emily.
"Aha, the so-called victims are perfectly unharmed, and the attackers are the ones lying on the ground," Sheriff Jonathan snorted.
Jonathan had never liked Leo. He'd sensed early on that Leo wasn't the type to stay out of trouble. And now, Leo had been back from the military for barely a few days and was already involved in two murder cases in town.
Even though Jonathan knew deep down Leo wasn't the real culprit, his instinctive dislike for the young man remained. That dislike turned to resentment when his younger son, fresh out of service, began following Leo around like a loyal pup. Jonathan hadn't raised his son to play sidekick to a lumberjack.
"Hey! Jonathan, you're the sheriff—you should be finding out who these attackers were, not interrogating my son! He's the victim here!" Ricardo cut in before Leo could reply, stepping in front of his son protectively.
Ricardo's tone lit the fuse in Jonathan, who grabbed him by the collar and growled, "Listen, tree-chopper, I don't need you telling me how to do my job."
"You're right—you don't. You're Lynchburg's famous detective, after all. I'm sure you already know who the real attackers were," Leo said calmly.
But his eyes were locked on Jonathan's hand clutching his father's shirt.
Had Jonathan not been Joseph's father, Leo would've already put him on the ground.
Leo's remark rattled Jonathan. He quickly released his grip, then stared hard at the young man, trying to gauge how much Leo really knew.
But Leo's calm, unreadable expression gave him nothing.
Jonathan, who clearly had something to hide, forced a scowl and huffed,
"At this point, we can't confirm who attacked who. I can't take just one side's word for it."
He was trying to provoke Leo, hoping the younger man would slip and reveal something.
But Jonathan misread the room.
Besides Leo's family, many neighbors from the street had gathered to watch.
Two days of violence had shaken the community's trust in local law enforcement.
Jonathan's aggressive tone was only adding fuel to the fire.
Ricardo's friend John stepped forward with a hunting rifle and said sharply:
"Jonathan, we all saw it.
Those four bastards opened fire with machine guns on Leo and Emily.
If Leo hadn't reacted so quickly, the two of them would be dead by now.
Maybe you're the one who owes us an explanation—
how the hell did armed thugs with this kind of firepower end up in Lynchburg?
Maybe it's time we filed a formal complaint to the town council!"
As he spoke, John kicked one of the Thompsons lying on the ground toward Jonathan.
On one side were angry, armed townsfolk; on the other, the looming threat of losing his job.
Jonathan's survival instincts finally kicked in through the fog of exhaustion.
"This is just an isolated case. Probably outsiders passing through.
Don't worry—I'll take care of it.
My son Joseph is good friends with Leo. This is all just routine questioning," he said, quickly switching to his familiar friendly, diplomatic tone.
The slick "detective of the people" act was back.
Jonathan did a quick sweep of the scene, piecing together what had happened. Then he walked over to Leo, put a hand around his shoulder, and smiled—but his voice was cold.
"The first three appeared in front of you.
Your focus should've been on them.
So how did you know there was someone behind you?"
Leo looked at him. Impressive—Jonathan had already deduced the enemy's formation and attack route.
He really was a seasoned detective, cracking major cases since the '20s.
"Jonathan, believe it or not, that was battlefield instinct," Leo replied.
Jonathan didn't buy it.
He could just barely accept the precise headshots—maybe Leo had good aim.
He'd seen Rock's old cowboy butler pull off similar shots.
But knowing someone was sneaking up from behind, in the dark, before they acted?
That bordered on supernatural.
"You'd better start telling me the truth, kid.
Otherwise, I'll have to bring you in."
But Leo just smiled and gestured toward the armed neighbors around them.
"If I've done nothing wrong, I don't need to go anywhere.
And besides, Uncle, we're all on the same side."
In the end, Jonathan left with the bodies, tail between his legs.
"Was there a shootout, Mom?!"
The noise had woken Leo's younger siblings.
Brave little things—they weren't scared at all.
As soon as the family walked through the door, they started peppering Maria with questions.
"Maybe you'd like to choose between a spanking and going to bed," Maria said as she grabbed the broom by the door.
The practiced way she wielded it made it clear—this wasn't her first rodeo.
"Get some rest, Leo," Ricardo said.
He had a million questions and worries, but seeing his son's exhaustion and Emily trembling in his arms, he simply patted Leo on the shoulder and retreated to his room.
"I was really scared, Leo…
Who did Michael offend?
How did our family end up like this?"
Emily whispered as she lay in Leo's arms, bathed in the soft moonlight.
Her eyes, glistening like dew after a storm, were fixed on him.
Leo gently brushed her cheek.
"It's complicated, Emily.
But you have to believe—it'll all be over soon."
Of course, as a seasoned flirt, Leo didn't tell her the truth—that her cowardly father and foolish brother had invited danger upon themselves.
Inwardly, Leo was burning.
He knew exactly how close they'd come tonight.
If his instincts had been even a second slower—if the attackers in front and behind had coordinated—Emily might have survived…
but he wouldn't have.
Since leaving the battlefield, this was the first time Leo had truly felt Death breathing down his neck.
Carlo.
"I believe in you, Leo," Emily whispered, tilting her head.
During the firefight, wrapped in Leo's arms, she'd felt a safety she never thought possible.
Now, lying beside him, her dress had shifted.
A few buttons near the collar had popped open.
Leo, momentarily lost in thought, glanced down and saw her wide, trusting eyes—and the soft skin just beneath.
A moment's gaze felt like a thousand unspoken words.
Their breath mingled.
Desire sparked like dry tinder.
"Love me, Leo," she whispered.
And as warmth met warmth, their bodies found rhythm under the moonlight.
That night, beneath a clear sky and twinkling stars, a young woman became something more.