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Back to her.
Scout hasn’t moved.
Hasn’t shifted position.
But I can feel it—
The difference.
The effort it’s taking to hold that line.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she says quietly.
I stop beside her.
“I did.”
“He wasn’t—”
“I know.”
I cut her off gently.
Because I already know what she’s going to say.
“He wasn’t Sentinel,” I continue.
Her eyes lift to mine.
“No,” she agrees.
“But it didn’t matter.”
That lands.
Because now we’re saying the same thing.
“He hit the right place,” I add.
Her breath slows slightly.
Controlled.
Understanding.
“Yes.”
A pause.
Then—
“He’s inside the edges now,” I say.
Her gaze sharpens.
“What do you mean?”
I glance toward Boone.
