After Oliver left, I turned to see Chris clutching his ankle in pain, and my concern spiked. The most important thing was getting him home to rest.
"I'll take him home first," I said to the other students nearby and then helped Chris up. "Can you walk?"
Chris gritted his teeth and nodded. "Yeah, I'm good."
When we got back to the Lane Estate, I helped Chris limp out of the car. As we entered the hall, we found Alexander standing by the entrance, as if he'd just returned home himself.
His eyes narrowed slightly when he noticed Chris' injured ankle, and his voice carried a mix of worry and irritation. "What happened? How did he get hurt?"
"He twisted it on the field," I explained simply.
Alexander let out a cold huff, his sharp gaze flicking between Chris and me. His tone turned icy. "
