That was the wrong thing to say to men like this. Or maybe it was the only thing that could have been said, because it was true, and true things have a way of making certain people furious.
The tall one moved fast. He grabbed her by the arm, hauled her out of the car, and spun her around, pressing her front-first against the door. She felt the cold metal against her cheek, heard her own breath go short and quick despite herself.
The second officer wrenched her arms behind her back. Metal clicked around her wrists — once, twice, tight.
“You’ll sit in a cell for a few hours,” the tall one said, close to her ear, breath hot with satisfaction. “Might make you a little more polite.”
Victoria didn’t scream. She didn’t fight the cuffs, didn’t thrash, didn’t give them the reaction they were hunting for. She just turned her head, slow, and looked at them over her shoulder, steady as still water.
