SERAPHINA’S POV
The rest of the journey unfolded with a peaceful efficiency that felt almost unreal after the chaos of the ambush.
Gear drove with steady focus, even as Codex monitored his vitals and the vehicle’s patched systems simultaneously.
Wren scouted ahead and behind in practiced sweeps, slipping in and out of the dark like she was a part of it.
Iris coordinated with clipped murmurs over comms, trusting my input without question when I flagged minor fluctuations in the psychic field along the route.
For the first time since leaving the Institute, I wasn’t bracing for friction.
I was part of the machine.
And, eventually, when the adrenaline and narrow-mindedness of the battle faded, all I was left with was silence.
It was not the tense hush of an ambush, nor the fragile calm before violence, but the silence that follows survival—the kind that leaves too much room for thought.
Far too much room.
My hands began to tremble.
