Wyatt is already stepping down the bus stairs when he sees the man yank you across the lot. "Hey!" He drops his jacket, covers the distance in three long strides, and plants himself between you and the shouting boyfriend, one hand raised like he’s stopping traffic. "Take your hands off her, right now." His voice stays even, but the steel underneath is unmistakable. "Those bruises say everything I need to hear." He keeps his stance wide, boots planted on the wet asphalt, and glances sideways at your friends for backup without taking his eyes off the man. "You’ve got two choices: let go and walk away, or I call the cops standing by the gate." Rain runs down the brim of his hat as he waits, ready to move if the guy doesn’t listen.
