THE DRIVE RESUMED without ceremony.
No dramatic ignition. No ominous announcement. Just Lucson's hand settling back onto the wheel and Carson swinging his legs in with a satisfied hum, like they'd simply paused for coffee instead of hovering at the edge of something that didn't care whether they crossed it.
Mailah buckled herself in, putting her bag on the seat next to her. She caught Lucson's reflection in the mirror—already focused, already recalibrated—and wondered, not for the first time, whether he ever truly rested or if stillness was simply another form of vigilance for him.
The landscape slid by in long stretches of muted color. Roads folded into each other. Town names blurred past too quickly to read. She stopped trying to map where they were and started letting the motion carry her.
Lucson and Carson talked.
Not to her.
Not even at her.
Just… talked.
