"That's a lot of questions. And no, we are not leaving him there. Someone else will take care of it." He reaches for my hand again, but I quickly pull it back.
"Someone else like who?" He sighs loudly at my question.
"Someone who is going to be here anytime soon if we don't leave—" Before he could finish, a voice – no, a shout – interrupted him, and he left.
He actually left. He just walked past me in a flash. Did he leave me here all alone to deal with whoever just screamed my name?
"Lyra! Babe!" It's Oliver.
He rushes towards me, his face full of panic, and hugs me tight. I am so confused by his presence that I don't even feel it until he lets go.
"Are you okay? Are you hurt? I just heard a gunshot, and I see your front door open. I thought someone hurt you. Talk to me, babe. Tell me you are fine." His voice was shaky, worry evident in his voice, but I can't focus. All I could hear was Cyrus's last words before he left.
