A Passerby

Glancing at Amelia, Noah's expression softened. "Could you kindly keep this a secret between us?" he asked, his voice casual but firm.

"I have exams tomorrow, and the police won't let me off easily after firing a weapon. Can you say the man accidentally shot himself or something? And maybe tell them someone in a mask saved you, but you don't know who it was and they just left."

He smiled—a warm, sincere smile that made her heart flutter in spite of everything. For a moment, Amelia was lost in the calm of his expression, nodding her head almost instinctively.

Noah, noticing her agreement, leaned down and patted the wounded man, retrieving a phone. Handing it to Amelia, he gestured toward it. "Call the police. Tell them what happened—minus the part about me."