Moreno's eyes flickered toward the woman, and for the first time her posture showed open discomfort. The implication hung between them while the lieutenant inspected Malik from head to toe. He noticed the neat collared shirt, pressed trousers, and expensive but understated shoes, yet none of those details appeared to make him reconsider the complaint. Instead, he looked irritated that the man he considered suspicious had not lowered his eyes or begun apologizing.
"Final warning," Halbrook said. "Away from the residence."
Malik took one careful step toward the center of the driveway, away from the porch. "I'll move enough to give you space, Lieutenant, but I won't leave my property while you decide whether I'm allowed to enter my home. I'll cooperate with a lawful investigation, and I want the ownership checked."
"You are not in a position to negotiate," Halbrook snapped. "Put your phone away and turn around."
The phone was still in Malik's pocket. He had merely gestured toward the car where the documents lay, and now even that ordinary movement was being treated as a potential threat. He looked toward Moreno, whose radio had crackled with a dispatcher's voice asking for a few seconds to retrieve the latest recorded deed. Malik could hear the words current transfer and stand by. It was the sound of the problem approaching a perfectly ordinary answer.
Halbrook heard it too. His jaw tightened, and he stepped into Malik's personal space. "Don't look at her. You're talking to me."
"Then let me explain to you," Malik said. "This transaction has been completed. I'm not entering somebody else's house. I am trying to move into mine."
"Your story changes every time you open your mouth."
"No, Lieutenant. It hasn't changed once."
Halbrook seized Malik's left upper arm. The grip came without warning, hard enough to wrinkle the fabric of his shirt and force his shoulder backward. Malik drew in a breath and resisted the instinct to jerk free, shifting only enough to keep his balance on the driveway. His right hand remained open beside his body, but Vivien immediately raised her voice.
"He's resisting! Owen, I told you he'd fight!"
"I'm not fighting anyone," Malik said, clearly and slowly. "Lieutenant, you've grabbed me. I'm standing still."
"Turn around," Halbrook ordered, twisting Malik's arm toward his back. "You're coming with me."
The movement hurt. Pain spread from Malik's shoulder down the outside of his arm, and he bent his knees to avoid losing his footing. His first thought was not about his future job; it was about how the scene would look if anyone saw only the next three seconds. An officer holding a man's arm, a caller shouting that the man was dangerous, and a body turning in response to pain could easily be rewritten as an active struggle.
"Officer Moreno," Malik said, "please ask dispatch to finish the ownership check. And please record that I haven't threatened or touched anybody."
"You don't get to instruct my officer," Halbrook said. "Tessa, get your cuffs."
Moreno hesitated. "Lieutenant, dispatch is confirming the address. There's a recent transfer."
"I'm confirming an arrest," Halbrook snapped. "Do your job."