Chapter 2

Moriah lay on the ground, coughing for what felt like forever before she finally caught her breath. Then she let out a scream that could've blown the roof off.

"Emory! You actually kicked me? You kicked me for some girl who just showed up?" Moriah shrieked.

"My dad was a hero! He took a bullet for your dad! Is this how you repay him?" she yelled.

Bradley finally came to his senses. He looked at Moriah, who was rolling on the floor in pain, his eyes red with rage.

He marched over and slapped Emory right across the face. "You idiot! Are you out of your mind?" he yelled.

The slap landed square on Emory's face. He didn't dodge, and his lip hit his teeth, and a bit of blood oozed out.

Emory wiped the blood off with his thumb, stared coldly at him, and didn't say a word. Bradley rushed over, helped Moriah to her feet, fussing over her, dusting her off, and checking for any wounds.

"Moriah, does it hurt? Where are you hurt? I will call the military doctor right away!" he said anxiously.

Moriah leaned into his arms, crying so hard she looked like a rain-soaked flower. She pointed at me.

"Mr. Porter, I was just trying to help her with her luggage, but she called me shameless, accused me of taking her spot, and even pushed me on purpose," Moriah sobbed.

"Emory came back and hit me without even asking what happened... Mr. Porter, I can't take it anymore. Just let me go see my dad in the afterlife..." she wailed.

After hearing her, Dad turned and glared at me like I was his worst enemy. "Danielle! You just got back, and you're already making a mess of things here!" he snapped.

"Get down on your knees and give Moriah a proper apology, right now!" he ordered.

I clenched my bleeding palm, my nails biting into my flesh. "I didn't curse her out. She threw my things and pushed me," I said. "Why should I apologize?"

"You still dare to argue?" He snapped. Bradley's face twisted with rage as he yanked the military belt from his waist. The buckle glinted in the sunlight.

"So you got wild living out in the sticks, huh? No rules, no respect! I'll beat you to death, you damned troublemaker!" he shouted.

The belt whistled through the air as it came down, and I didn't flinch.

I stared at that belt with its metal buckle, thinking to myself, go ahead, hit me. I've survived worse in the past fifteen years.

Farmers beat me with firewood, village kids threw rocks at me, and traffickers burned my hand with cigarette butts. One more beating doesn't make a difference.

A dull thud sounded, but the belt never touched me.

Emory grabbed the belt with his bare hand. The sharp edge of the buckle cut into his palm, blood streaming down his wrist and dripping onto his uniform sleeve, soaking a small patch dark.

"That's enough," Emory said. His voice was so quiet that only Dad and I could hear it. But those words carried more weight than any shout.

"Can't you see the injury on her hand? I saw Moriah push her from the car; clear as day," Emory said. "How long are you going to keep favoring her?"

Bradley jabbed a finger right in Emory's face, his neck veins popping with rage. "She pushed her because Danielle doesn't know her place! Jack took a bullet for me; he didn't even make it back in one piece!" he roared.

"Everything I have, I owe to Moriah! If Moriah wants anything from the Porter family, Danielle just has to hand it over!" he barked.

That was what he said; everything here was Porter family property. I was part of Porter, too, but to him, I'm not even worth any of their stuff.

Emory released the belt and stayed silent. He turned, crouched down, and helped me up with his uninjured hand. His hand was big and firm, the palm rough with thick calluses.

"Does it hurt?" he asked quietly.

Just those words. I bit my lip, struggling not to let the tears fall. Finally, I shook my head.

He looked at my scraped palm, said nothing more, and stood up, positioning himself protectively in front of me. Just as Bradley was about to lose it again, a woman's voice rang out from outside, sharp and full of rage.

"You should be the one getting out, Bradley!" Grace marched into the yard, briefcase in hand, her heels clacking loudly on the pavement.

Grace was my biological mom, chief of logistics for the military district. She sized up the chaos.

I was down on the ground, my palm scraped and bleeding. Emory was blocking me from harm, blood trickling from a fresh cut in his hand. Bradley was frozen in place, clutching the belt, and Moriah clung to Bradley's back, tears streaming down her face.

Grace didn't ask a single question. She marched right past Bradley and walked straight up to Moriah.

Moriah instinctively took a step back. But it was too late.

The slap cracked across Moriah's face, loud enough for everyone in the yard to hear.

Moriah's head whipped to the side, her cheek swelling up fast, blood seeping from the corner of her mouth. She just stood there, dumbstruck.

One second later, her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed, pretending to faint. Bradley was beside himself with worry, stomping his feet in frustration.

"Grace, have you lost your mind? Moriah has a heart condition! What if something happens to her because of your slap?" he yelled.

Grace ignored him. She reached into her bag and pulled out a stack of receipts and paperwork, and smacked them right into Bradley's face.

The papers were scattered all over the ground. "Heart condition? She's the one we should pity?" Grace said coldly.