“Good,” I whisper.
Because I’m not walking away from this either.
Not anymore.
50
Clay
The vehicle doesn’t stop.
Not yet.
Not until—
“We’re across.”
Lucas’s voice cuts through everything.
Low.
Certain.
Final.
Across the border.
Safe.
The word doesn’t register right away.
Because my body—
It’s still in it.
Still fighting.
Still braced for the next hit.
“Say again,” Miles mutters.
“We’re across the border,” Lucas repeats. “We’re clear.”
Clear.
That’s when it happens.
The shift.
It’s subtle at first.
A crack in the armor.
A slip in the focus.
The adrenaline starts to drain—
And everything I’ve been holding back comes crashing in.
