In the moment where she was no longer balanced, Rufus snatched the knife from her hands. Wren pressed himself into the wall, breathless, as he prepared to witness a murder. He was sure Rufus was going to plunge the knife into the woman’s back now that he had the opportunity.
But he didn’t. Instead he quickly stashed the knife in a dresser drawer, then leaned against it.
The woman regained her balance and charged toward Rufus, all fury and flailing fists. Rufus restrained her as she tried to pummel his chest and face with her fists, her frustration coming out of her in small grunts and cries.
All at once, it seemed as though the fight escaped her like air out of a punctured balloon, and she sank to the floor, weeping.
Wren didn’t want Rufus to move away from blocking access to the drawer where he had placed the knife, but he did. Rufus sank down beside the woman, his hand reaching out gingerly to touch her straight dark hair.
“It’s gonna be okay now,” he whispered. “It’s over.”