"I don't care," Evan said smoothly, though the muscle jumping in his jaw told a different story. He carefully slipped his arm under Ellie's knees and scooped his daughter up into his chest. The word daughter rattled around inside his mind, heavy and terrifying and overwhelmingly real. He pressed his cheek against Ellie's soft hair, breathing in the scent of baby shampoo and fresh rain. My daughter.
He reached into his pocket with his free hand, pulled out his phone, and dialed three digits.
"What are you doing?" Sabrina’s eyes widened in genuine horror. "Evan, stop. What are you doing?!"
"Emergency services," Evan said into the receiver, his tone crisp and terrifyingly calm. "I need an ambulance and a police unit at 742 Elmridge Way. An assault has taken place. The victim has a severe blunt force trauma to the shoulder and spine. Yes, the perpetrator is still on the premises."
"Evan! Are you insane?!" Sabrina dropped the hockey stick. It clattered against the oak floor with a series of loud, violent thumps before rolling to a stop against the baseboard. "You’re calling the cops on me? We’re getting married in six months! I’m your fiancée!"