Briggs didn’t just hold Evelyn’s arm. He escalated.
Both hands slammed into her chest with brutal force.
“You’re nothing here!” he roared, his voice bouncing off the cold grey walls. “Get back in line!”
Evelyn stumbled backward, falling hard onto the polished lobby floor.
The room froze. Dozens of bystanders behind the glass turnstiles stood utterly paralyzed.
But the man in the black suit didn’t freeze. He exploded into motion.
Before Briggs could even exhale his rage, his world inverted. The stranger closed the distance in two strides, seizing the guard’s right arm. With a terrifying, practiced violence, he wrenched it high between Briggs’ shoulder blades.
*SLAM.*
Briggs’ face crashed into the cold steel of the security turnstile. Bone met metal.
His muscles locked. Pain blinded him. The man in the suit held him pinned effortlessly, crushing his skull against the smooth surface.
Behind them, Evelyn stood up.
She dusted off her beige shirt. She placed a hand flat against her chest, taking one slow, measured breath. When she lowered her hand, the shock in her eyes was gone.
Replaced by absolute, freezing authority.
She stepped toward the turnstile, her gold hoop earrings swaying slightly. Briggs stared up at her sideways, his cheek smashed against the metal, sweating profusely. His eyes bulged in terrified disbelief, his mouth twisted in agony.
He waited for her to scream. To threaten police.
Instead, she stared down at him. Her voice was flat, cold, and absolute.
“You confused a badge with authority,” Evelyn said. “You’re fired.”
Inside Briggs’ right ear, his clear acoustic earpiece suddenly crackled to life. It was the panicked voice of the Chief of Security, screaming from the control room.
*“Briggs! Stand down! That’s Evelyn Vance! She just bought the company!”*
But it was already too late.