Aria's POV
"He's alive," Damian's father said, his deep voice rumbling through the confined space. "And he is recovering."
"But?" I pressed, looking between them.
His mother reached over and took my hand. Her fingers were cool and steady, nothing like my own trembling ones.
"There's no 'but.' He truly only has minor injuries," she said quietly.
Somehow, her words made me feel even more frightened.
"How much longer?" I asked, my voice cracking.
"Ten minutes," the driver said from the front.
Ten minutes. I could survive ten minutes.
I stared out the window, watching the city blur past, and tried to prepare myself for what I was about to see.
But how could I prepare for this? How could I prepare to see Damian hurt, possibly—
No. I wouldn't think about that.
