The ride out of the city blurred. Molly sat in the passenger seat with Scarlett clutched to her chest, the baby heavy with sleep against her collarbone. Every breath Molly drew still smelled of blood, still carried the rasp of Carter’s half-shift in her ears. Her body trembled with leftover terror, the way a string keeps vibrating long after the bow has left it.
Jack drove one-handed, the other pressed against the wound in his side. His shirt was already soaked through, but he didn’t flinch. Didn’t speak. The headlights cut the road into sharp stripes of light and dark.
Scarlett sighed and shifted, one tiny hand fisting in Molly’s torn uniform. That weight, that trust, dragged Molly back from the edge. She smoothed a hand over Scarlett’s curls and whispered nonsense—half lullaby, half pr
