Page 50 of Logan’s Way

Except choosing restraint hadn’t stopped him from making other choices. Rachel Carver had fallen through a gap while Angus was wrestling with what faithfulness looked like. And now Lena Torres was sitting in his living room asking for help the system couldn’t provide through proper channels.

Refusing to act was itself a choice. And that choice had consequences for people whose safety depended on someone being willing to go beyond what procedure required.

There is a way that seems right to a man.

Angus had been applying the verse to Logan, to a brother who chose decisive action and called it righteousness because it saved lives. But standing here, with Lena shaking on his couch, Angus felt the verse turn inward.

This wasn’t coincidence. Coincidence didn’t knock on your door and say your name.

He had asked for clarity and received silence. He had chosen restraint and still the need had come anyway—uninvited, unavoidable, demanding a response. Not explanation. Not permission. Just responsibility placed directly in front of him.

What if that path led to Lena being hurt because Angus had been so concerned with whether acting was proper that he never asked whether not acting was faithful?

He turned back to Lena. “Tell me everything about Derek. His patterns, his schedule, where he works, who his friends are, what he drives. Everything.”

Lena’s expression shifted—relief mixed with something that looked like hope. “Does that mean you’ll help?”

“It means I’ll figure out what can be done within legal boundaries to keep you safe. I’m not promising miracles, and I’m not promising I can make him leave you alone. But I can help you understand what he’s likely to do next and how to protect yourself until the system catches up.”

It wasn’t what Logan would do. Logan would have made Derek disappear—not killed necessarily, but removed, relocated, convinced through methods Angus didn’t want to imagine. He would have made it clear that continuing to stalk Lena would have consequences he wouldn’t survive.

But Angus wasn’t Logan. He was unwilling to cross the lines his brother had crossed, even when doing so would produce immediate safety for someone who desperately needed it.

He was still committed to working within the system. Still believed justice required boundaries. Still trusted that the right path, however inadequate it felt, was the one that honored authority beyond human judgment.

But he could no longer pretend restraint was neutral. Could no longer hide behind being on leave while people who needed protection fell through gaps he usually filled.

Lena started talking—about Derek’s work schedule, his truck, his friends who sometimes helped him watch her apartment, the threats he’d made before the restraining order that were vague enough to avoid criminal charges. Angus listened, cataloging details, establishing the pattern he had been trained to see.

The people of Weyport were unaware that inside one house, a sheriff on bereavement leave was being pulled back into the work he’d tried to step away from.

The work that wouldn’t let him go, because people still needed protection whether or not he had resolved his own moral struggle.

An hour later, after Lena had left with specific instructions about documentation, safety protocols, and a direct number to call if Derek escalated, Angus stood in his kitchen and felt the weight of the threshold he’d just crossed.

He’d told himself he was still on leave, yet he was still wrestling with what obedience looked like, still trying to honor restraint as the harder faithfulness.

But he’d just spent an hour doing the work of a sheriff—analyzing threats, developing safety plans, preparing to coordinate with Miguel, even though such coordinating meant stepping back into an active role he had been avoiding.

He’d just broken the rule he’d set for himself about remaining separate from Weyport’s needs while he figured out what to do about Logan.

Because Lena Torres had shown up on his porch, and refusing to help her would have been its own choice—one that might have cost her safety, might even cost her life, and might demonstrate that Angus’s commitment to wrestling with obedience mattered more than protecting someone who needed protecting.

Scout watched from his bed, head on his paws, tracking Angus’s movement around the room. The perceptive canine understood that something had shifted, that his person had moved from stillness into action, even if the action was smaller than what the situation might require.

Angus pulled out his phone and called Miguel.

“It’s Angus. Lena Torres came to see me this morning. I need you to pull Derek Walsh’s file and meet me at the station in an hour. We’re going to figure out how to keep her safe within legal parameters, but it’s going to require coordination—and probably some creative interpretation of what ‘reasonable officer discretion’ allows.”

Miguel’s relief was audible. “You’re coming back?”

“I’m helping with this case. That’s all I’m committing to right now.”

“That’s enough. Thank you.”

The call ended. Angus looked at his kitchen—the familiar space where he had been sitting with moral questions that had no clear answers, wrestling with what faithfulness required when clarity wasn’t available.

And he understood with certainty that felt more like resignation than peace: Restraint was no longer protecting him. Doing nothing was no longer neutral. Every choice not to act was still a choice, and choices had consequences for people who depended on sheriffs to fill the gaps between legal correctness and actual protection.