I raised my own hand. Returned the wave.
It felt heavier than anything I had done today.
Heavier than the gun. Heavier than the blade.
Heavier than the man I had just killed.
Because this—
This was loss.
Not of life. But of something I could never give back.
That little girl—
The one who used to laugh too loudly.
Who believed the moon followed her home.
Who stole gelato and blamed the sky for it—
She was gone.
Completely.
In her place sat someone else.
Someone who had survived.
But survival came with a cost.
And I would spend the rest of my life paying for it.
The limousine began to move.
Slow at first.
Then steady.
Four armored Hummers fell into formation instantly—two pulling ahead like hunting predators, engines roaring low, and two locking in behind, tight and precise.
A moving fortress.
Every window dark.
Every weapon ready.
Every man inside prepared to die before letting anything reach her.
Dust rose behind them, thick and swirling, catching in the morning light as the convoy pushed forward.
I watched.
The vehicles snaked down the valley road, tires gripping and sliding as they rounded the first bend.
The sharp screech of rubber against stone echoed back toward me, cutting through the air like a blade.
Each sound hit something inside me.
