The damp air of the coastline clung to the interior of the Pagani Huayra as the adrenaline from the pursuit began to recede, leaving behind the dull, thrumming ache of physical trauma. Liam Livingston sat behind the steering wheel, his knuckles pale against the leather, his eyes fixed on the rearview mirror where the boy sat.
"I still believe we should escort him directly to his front door," Liam remarked, his voice a low rasp. He felt the weight of the day pressing down on him. Protecting a child was one thing; ensuring the lingering psychological shadows of such an event didn't take root was another. "A child of his age, having stared down the barrel of a g*n—that kind of trauma doesn't just evaporate. He needs the security of his own home, the familiar scents of his family."
The boy,
