“Shane, these people aren’t some drunk Marines you can straighten out. They’re—”
“Send me everything.”
That night, Marcy came for dinner. She wore long sleeves again and moved even more carefully than before. Lisa tried to draw her out, but Marcy just picked at her food, her body tensing every time her phone buzzed. She checked it constantly with barely concealed fear.
After dinner, Shane walked Marcy to her car. “Baby girl,” he said softly. “I know what’s happening.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Dad, please don’t.”
“Has he hit you?”
“It’s complicated. He gets stressed with training, with his uncle’s expectations. It’s not always—”
“Has. He. Hit. You?”
The tears spilled over. “He says he loves me. He apologizes every time. He’s just… he’s under so much pressure from his family.”
Shane pulled her into a hug, feeling her small frame shake against him. “This ends now.”
