Sasha tipped her head back against the plating and watched dust dance in a shaft of light. "Looks like my boys are more loyal and trustworthy than your leader," she said, not gloating—just stating a fact that tasted too satisfying.
Dylan didn't bite. He stared out the slit window at the ruined skyline, jaw working, and finally said, "I didn't expect much from Ben. But I didn't realize how little he values me."
Reyes snorted. "He only cares about himself, so don't expect much from him."
"Which is to say," Alvaro said, "not enough."
Dylan considered that in silence. The van hummed around them, a steel heart beating steady. He looked at Sasha—hair tangled, dust on her cheeks, eyes bright and stubborn—and something unscientific loosened in his chest.
"I'll transfer my expectations," he said lightly at last, and when Sasha arched a brow, he clarified, "From people who won't come… to people who will."
Sasha's smile was small and satisfied. "Smart man."
