One of the officers stepped forward, forcing my father to his knees.

He didn’t fight back as they pulled his arms behind his back and clicked the metal cuffs into place.

He looked up at me one last time, his eyes filled with a bitter, empty rage.

Then they pushed him into the back of a patrol car.

The door slammed shut, cutting off his voice.

The blue lights continued to flash, reflecting in the puddles around us.

Gabriel looked down at me.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, taking a deep breath of the cold air. “I am.”

We walked past the police cars toward the glass doors of the terminal.

Inside, the terminal was quiet and brightly lit.

The agent at the desk looked up, offering a polite smile.

“Heading to Seattle?” she asked.

“Yes,” Gabriel said, handing her our boarding passes.

She scanned them, the machine emitting a soft, reassuring beep.

“Your luggage is already loaded,” she said. “You can head right through to the tarmac.”

“Thank you,” I said.

We walked through the security checkpoint, the metal detector silent as we passed.