Of course, I think he’s shot.
But when his blue eyes show nothing but concern and anger, that idea quickly flees away.
He’s quick to move, slipping his hands beneath my weight and lifting me in the air. I’m only there for a split second before another shot goes off, and Ozzy growls, deep and sinister in his chest.
Thistime, it got him.
His brows pin, lips still sealed closed, as Ozzy continues out of the room and straight ahead.
In the hallway, it’s havoc.
Kids screaming.
School staff running away.
Doors slamming shut.
A fucking gun just went off in the school, and the classrooms are probably on lockdown.
The police have been called, I’m sure.
And Ozzy…he doesn’t appear like anything’s wrong. Only that he wants us out.
“Black truck,” a male says behind us. “Keys are in the armrest. Don’t take her to the hospital. Medical staff will already be at the address I’m going to text you.”
The voice doesn’t sound familiar, but Ozzy doesn’t stop to acknowledge it.
He keeps moving.
And he doesn’t stop until we’re there.
THIRTY-NINE
ozzy
“Almost there, Miss Astor. Hold on.”
I’m settled in the backseat of a Chevy Silverado with Bay tucked into the crook of my bicep and shoulder.
She hasn’t moved since I picked her up. But the moans she’s been making hit my gut several times and rock me sideways.
I saw the blood first.
The forming of bruises.
The man driving this truck isn’t going fast enough, and it’s not because I can’t stand her body weight on top of me for another minute but because I’m scared.
Scared she might be seriously hurt.
Terrified that something is happening to the baby.
Bay releases another groan, this time attempting to pull her knees up to find some sort of comfort but finds none.
I don’t know what to do.
“Go faster,” I order the dude behind the wheel. “We need to be there in the next two minutes. Blow every light. Do not?—”
“Oz.”
