When Julian opened the car door, his steps froze.
Someone was already in the back seat.
"Tress?"
She lifted her head, chestnut hair catching the streetlight.
"Hello, Julian."
Julian blinked, caught between surprise and confusion. "Where were you?"
Her lips pushed into a little sulk. "Of course I was watching. But they didn't let me act as medic this time—the stakes were too high. They brought in professionals."
He let out a short laugh through his nose. Typical Tress.
"Go on, get in. Sit in the back," Crest's voice called firmly from the driver's seat.
Julian slid inside, settling next to Tress. The air still smelled faintly of rain.
"Thank you, ma'am," Tress said politely to Crest.
Crest gave a small, amused nod. "It's fine. The life of young people," she murmured, her tone carrying the weight of someone much older than her years, as if she were humoring children she was sworn to protect.
…
The car hummed to life, headlights carving a path through the damp streets.
