The wind had picked up by the time we reached the site. It whipped through the empty shell of the building, carrying the metallic tang of wet steel and concrete dust. The place was deserted — the crew gone for the weekend.
We stepped inside. My breath echoed, far too loud.
We moved deeper into the skeletal structure, toward the stairs. My fear made me tremble with every step, but adrenaline numbed most of it.
When we reached the top floor — open to the sky on one side — I turned.
Mark stood in the doorway, smiling like a man who thought he'd already won.
I glanced once to my right and took a deep breath.
"Now, you have a choice darling" he said, his tone Icy.
"You stop running and come home with me, or we both fall from this building. Because if I can't have you, nobody can."
He was still gripping my arms like a vice.
I turned my face and looked at him.
"Maybe I don't have to run anymore."
The wind tore across the top floor, rattling loose sheets of metal. I could smell the damp in the air, the promise of rain.
"You've been lying to yourself," he said. "Thinking you could start over without me. That's not how this works."
I didn't move. "It's over, Mark."
He laughed — low, cold. "It's over when I say it's over."
He shoved me backward toward the raw edge of the floor.
I fought, nails clawing, boots slipping on the dusty concrete. My breath came in gasps, the taste of panic sharp on my tongue.
"You belong to me," he hissed, face twisted, spittle catching on the wind. "I built you. Without me, you're nothing."
I slammed my knee into his thigh, but he only tightened his grip, his strength far greater than mine. He shoved me hard — so hard my heel skidded right to the edge.
The street below was a dizzy blur.
Brandon's voice cracked through the wind.
"Let her go, Mark!"
Mark didn't even look at him. His full focus stayed on me, like a predator closing in on its prey.
I didn't think. I just reacted.
I shifted my weight, letting my ankle buckle as though I was collapsing, pulling him forward in the same motion. His grip on me was too tight for him to catch himself — and suddenly he was tipping past me.
For a heartbeat, his eyes went wide — not with rage this time, but with shock. Disbelief.
Then he was gone.
The sound when he hit the scaffolding on his way down was a sharp, sickening crash that echoed up through the hollow frame of the building. A bar clanged loose and rattled down into the street.
I was frozen. My breath was loud in my ears, my pulse even louder.
Brandon's hands were suddenly on my shoulders, pulling me back from the edge, his voice urgent but muffled through the rush of blood in my head.
I hadn't meant for him to fall. Not like that.
But the image of his face in that final second — the shock, the sheer terror — was already burned into me.
Brandon's grip on my shoulders was firm, steadying me when my knees threatened to give out. The wind still whipped around us, but all I could hear was the pounding of my own heartbeat.
"He's gone," Brandon said quietly, his voice almost lost in the gusts. "It's over."
I swallowed hard, staring at the spot where Mark had been only moments ago. The scaffolding below was still swaying faintly from the impact. I couldn't see him from here, but I didn't need to. My stomach turned.
"I… I didn't mean…" My words tangled, sticking in my throat.
"I know," Brandon said, eyes locked on mine. "But we need to do the right thing. Right now."
He pulled his phone from his pocket with steady hands, though I could see the tension in his jaw. He pressed it to his ear, gave the address, and told the police there'd been an accident at the construction site. His voice was calm, deliberate — but his knuckles were white around the phone.
When he hung up, he handed me his mobile.
"You should call Kelly. She deserves to know you're safe."
My hands trembled as I dialed. The moment she answered, her voice rushed through in relief.
"Amelia? Oh my God, I've been so worried —"
"I'm okay," I cut in, my voice hoarse. "We're okay. But… something happened. The police are on their way."
She was silent for a beat, then asked, "Is it him?"
I closed my eyes. "Yes."
We didn't say more. She made us promise to call her again later.
Brandon guided me toward the stairwell, one arm still around me like he was afraid I'd vanish if he let go. Each step down felt heavier, my body sluggish with shock.
Sirens were already cutting through the city noise by the time we reached the ground. I kept my eyes on the concrete, unable — unwilling — to look toward the twisted metal scaffolding where Mark had fallen.
Some part of me had expected to feel relief. Instead, all I felt was hollow.
The fluorescent lights in the station were too bright, too sharp. Every time I blinked, the image of Mark falling replayed behind my eyes.
A female officer led us into a small interview room with a metal table and two hard chairs. She closed the door with a soft click. "I'm Detective Harris. I just need to go over your statements, then we'll take it from there."
Brandon pulled his chair closer to mine, his knee brushing against mine under the table. I didn't realize until then that I'd been holding my breath since we arrived.
The detective's voice was calm, professional. "Start from when you first encountered the victim today."
Victim. The word snagged in my chest. My mouth was dry.
"He… he was watching me," I said finally. My hands twisted in my lap. "He —" My voice faltered, memory crowding in. The smell of dust. The scrape of his boots on metal. His voice in my ear.
Brandon's hand slid over mine under the table, grounding me. "He grabbed her, took her there, then threatened her," he said quietly, looking at the detective. "I was a few steps behind. I heard enough to know she was in danger."
Harris's pen scratched over her notepad. "And the fall?"
I stared at my knuckles, white against Brandon's. "We struggled. I… I didn't mean for him to — " My voice broke. "I just needed him to stop."
The detective studied me for a moment, then gave a small nod. "We'll review the CCTV from the site. But from what you've told me, this appears to have been self-defense."
I nodded. Relief didn't come. Only exhaustion.
When the interview was over, she told us we could go, but not to leave town until they'd finished the formalities. Brandon thanked her, his voice steady, though I could feel the tension in the line of his arm against mine.
Outside the interview room, Brandon pulled me into a fierce hug before I could speak. "You're safe now," he whispered. "That's all that matters."
But as Brandon guided me out into the cool night air, I knew that "safe" still felt far away.