Oliver’s POV
As I sped toward the hospital, the weight of the evening’s events bore down on me like a storm cloud. The thought of Isla getting hurt because of me made my stomach churn with guilt and anger. I glanced at her as she cradled her injured arm, her face pale but calm. She was always trying to be brave, even when I knew she was scared.
“Oliver,” Isla said softly, her voice pulling me from my thoughts. “It’s not that bad. I’m okay. You need to calm down.”
“Not bad?” I barked, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “You were shot, Isla! Shot! I’m not taking any chances. I won’t lose you.”
She sighed, resting her head against the seat. “You’re making it sound worse than it is. It’s just my arm. You’re the one who shielded me—what if you’re hurt?”
“I’m fine,” I snapped, unwilling t
