Not yet.
Inside the SUV, the air was thick—heavy with adrenaline, smoke, and the sharp bite of gunpowder. No one spoke. No one needed to. The tension still sat high, coiled, ready.
Only when the streets stretched longer… quieter…
did the speed finally drop.
Silas shifted slightly, lifting just enough to look down at her.
Becca was still out.
Too still.
A thin line of blood traced from her temple, catching faint light as the vehicle passed under a streetlamp.
His jaw tightened.
His hand came up, slower now, more deliberate brushing lightly along her cheek, checking, grounding.
Breathing.
Still there.
Good.
“She wasn’t part of the list,” someone said from the front.
Silas didn’t answer right away.
His eyes stayed on her.
Assessing.
Calculating.
Something else—quieter, harder to name—flickering beneath the surface.
Then, finally—
“Doesn’t matter.”
Two words.
Final.
Controlled.
But carrying something heavier than the moment itself.
He adjusted her again, pulling her more securely against him, his arm firm around her like letting go wasn’t an option anymore.
“Keep driving.”
Outside, the city stretched into darkness, swallowing them whole as they disappeared deeper into it—
leaving fire behind…
leaving chaos behind…
