As the chaos subsided, a heavy silence settled over the car. Hilton kept his foot on the accelerator until they were miles from the kindergarten, finally braking with an exhausted sigh.
Only when parked did he notice—Ava sat clutching her arm, her face drained of color. Beside her, little Bodi's face was pinched with worry. The boy stayed silent, blowing soft, cooling breaths over her wound like it might somehow help.
The sight squeezed Hilton's chest tight.
"You're hurt," Hilton said quietly, wrenching open the back door. His breath caught at the injury—a jagged gash slicing across her porcelain skin from shoulder to elbow. Though the bleeding had slowed, her entire arm was streaked with tacky, drying blood. The jacket she'd worn now lay discarded, soaked crimson.
"H-Hilton," Ava bega
