He dialed a number, his thumb tapping the screen with practiced speed.

“This is Colonel Bennett,” he said into the receiver.

His voice was clipped, professional, and entirely devoid of warmth.

“Connect me to Major Harris immediately.”

He paused, his eyes scanning the dark parking lot five stories below.

“I don’t care if he is off duty,” my father said.

“This is an emergency involving my family.”

“Tell him I need a military legal liaison to coordinate with the local magistrate.”

He hung up without waiting for a polite sign-off.

He looked over at me as I sat on the edge of the high hospital bed.

“We are not waiting for the standard court hours,” he said.

“My legal team is going to assist the local precinct in drafting an emergency protection order.”

“We will have a judge sign it before the sun comes up.”

“Can they really do that so fast?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“Under these circumstances, with the medical reports of your heart condition and the physical threats.”

“It’s an immediate threat to life.”

He began to pace the small room, his hands clasped behind his back.