2My four-year-old son called me at work, crying: “Dad, Mom’s boyfriend hit me with a baseball bat.” I was 20 minutes away… so I called the only person who could get there faster.

The noise inside the house erupted into a brief, brutal storm.

I heard Travis curse loudly, followed by the heavy, metallic sound of someone being slammed hard against a solid frame. A shattered lamp echoed through the speaker. Travis was a big guy—six-foot-two, a gym rat who worked as a bouncer at a local club—but he wasn't a fighter. He was a bully who used size and fear to dominate women and children.

Derek had spent ten years learning how to control human bodies in high-stress environments.

There was a heavy, dull impact, a sharp expulsion of air from Travis's lungs, and then a heavy body hit the hardwood floor like a sack of wet concrete.

Silence descended over the line.

I was pressing so hard on my gas pedal my ankle throbbed. "Derek?! Derek, answer me!"

Heavy, measured breathing filled the microphone.

"I'm here," Derek gasped out, his voice slightly ragged. "Travis is on the floor. He's not moving."

"Is he breathing?"

"He's breathing," Derek replied coldly. "He's going to be tasting his own teeth for a month, but he's breathing."

I heard Derek’s boots moving quickly across the floorboards toward the hallway. "Noah? Buddy? Where are you?"

"In... in the closet," a tiny voice squeaked.

The sound of a closet door sliding open rattled over the phone. Then came a sound that made tears instantly burst from my eyes—the sound of my four-year-old son sobbing uncontrollably, throwing his tiny arms around my brother's neck.

"I got you, buddy. I got you," Derek murmured softly, his voice trembling for the first time. "Uncle Derek's got you. You're safe."

"My arm hurts, Uncle Derek... he hit me with the big stick because I dropped my juice..." Noah cried out, his little voice trailing off in sheer exhaustion and pain.

"I know, baby. I know," Derek whispered. Then his tone hardened as he spoke directly back into his headset to me. "Christian, his right forearm is completely swollen and bruised. It looks fractured. I'm carrying him out to my truck right now."