Paul’s POV
As we barreled down the shadowy streets, the van's tyres shrieked against the wet tarmac. I continued staring back in the rearview mirror and saw Jackson groan with every bump. Becky was trying to keep him aware while blood soaked through the improvised bandage on his leg. Jackson's spirit was fractured, too, and I knew it would take more than a few stitches to mend. This was not only about his injuries.
Angry, seething under my skin, I tightened my hold on the steering wheel. We had been misled, corned, and played upon. And it was separating our team from the inside out. Every moment, every choice seemed like a ticking clock nearing catastrophe.
"You have to hang on, Jackson," Becky replied, her voice shaking but forceful. Her hands stayed glued to his injury, her gaze worri
