"Stay out of this, old man!" Travis snapped without looking back. He glared down at Zariah. "Last chance. Get up!"
Zariah rose slowly, her movements measured and graceful. She tucked the notebook under her left arm. But as she stood, a sudden sharp gust of wind swept across the open plaza, catching the loose ends of her scarf and snatching a delicate silver chain from around her neck. The necklace tumbled to the gravel, landing near the toe of Travis's heavy leather boot.
Without thinking, Zariah reflexively reached down to retrieve her fallen necklace. It was a simple, instinctual human movement. But Travis, already amped up on adrenaline and eager to assert dominance in front of gathering onlookers, interpreted the sudden motion as an attack or an attempt to grab something from his belt.
Before Melissa could even shout a warning, Travis’s heavy right arm swung back and struck Zariah across the face with a brutal, open-handed slap.
The crack of the blow echoed off the surrounding stone walls like a gunshot.
Zariah’s head snapped sideways. The impact knocked her back against the wooden slats of the bench, and her silver necklace clattered against the cold gravel. A collective gasp went up from the small crowd of onlookers.
For three terrifying seconds, nobody moved. The entire park seemed to hold its breath.
Zariah didn't scream. She didn't cry. She didn't cover her face in terror. She simply stood up straight, brushing a strand of dark hair from her eyes. A bright red welt was already rising along her cheekbone, but her eyes were like two pools of liquid ice.