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I’m going to—Atlas brushes past me and stands over Dylan.

“She’s crazy,” Dylan rasps, struggling to sit up and holding his head. “She tried to kill me?—”

“Stay down.” Atlas puts his foot in the middle of Dylan’s back.

“I’m pressing charges! Call the cops—Mrs. Wilkes!”

“Shut the fuck up.” Atlas looks to me. “Do I need to call Madeline?”

I nod at Atlas then reach for Willow, staring at the blood coating her hand from a gash on her temple. “Where else are you hurt?”

“I…don’t know. Here, I guess.” She touches her forehead again and then stares at her hand blankly.

“Cops are here,” Banks says quietly. “What do you want to do?”

“He was choking me,” Willow whispers, her face suddenly pale. “I hit him… with my dad’s… picture…”

“I don’t know,” I respond briskly, “but the first thing I’m doing is taking her to the hospital to get checked out.”

“No, I’m okay.” Willow tries to protest, but I cut her off.

“You have a deep gash on your forehead, and just a few months ago you got hit in the head so hard you were in a coma,” I tell her, trying to keep my voice level. “You need to have a doctor look at you. Don’t argue with me about this, please.”

Before she can answer, Royal approaches with what looks like a dish towel. “Here—put this on your head.”

“Thank you.” She shivers suddenly, and I worry she’s going into shock.

“Here.” I take off the denim jacket I’m wearing and drape it over her shoulders.

“Hudson, I—” she begins.

“Not now,” I say gruffly, turning away. I’m battling too many disparate emotions to talk to her right now. I’m pissed off she did something so reckless, but simultaneously thankful she fought back.

Thankful we got here in time.

Thankful she’s alive.

I’m also afraid if I try to have a conversation with her, all those emotions are going to burst out of me in an explosion of terror, annoyance, and a plethora of other negativity that I don’t think she’s ready for. Not from me anyway.

Then the cops burst in and there’s a lot of chaos.

Questions.

Dylan playing the victim.

Madeline arriving.

So much fucking chaos.

Luckily, I know these particular officers and have dealt with them before, so they let me leave with Willow—she’s going to the emergency room whether she likes it or not.

And she isn’t any happier with me than I am with her at the moment.

“We’ll handle everything here,” Atlas tells me. “Make sure she gets checked out. Another bump to the head this soon after the coma…”

“I know. Thanks.” I turn to Willow. “Let’s go.”

She blinks at my stern tone but then follows me out without a word.