“Well, don’t offend the swines,” I mutter.
She looks at me and scoffs. “You’re right.”
Cassian climbs onto the bus in the meantime and drops into the seat directly in front of mine. He flicks a brief look at Alex, then turns back to me like he has decided that’s where his attention belongs. He angles his body in a way that cannot possibly be comfortable, pressing his bare back to the cool glass. The honey in his eyes never melts.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi,” I reply.
It goes on for maybe five more minutes, him staring at me like that, before his eyes finally close. His whole body loosens, heavy all at once, and he slides down onto the second seat.
I stand up so fast the bus tilts and the dizziness hits me hard. My first instinct is to catch him, to hold him, or at least shift him onto his side so he doesn’t just fall wrong. Then I remember what I am and what he is, and how laughably outmatched my muscles are against that kind of weight.
So I settle for what I can do. I lower him as gently as possible and ease him into a safer position.
“Um, Nathaniel?” I call. “Cassian just passed out.”
“Yeah, let him be,” Nathaniel calls back. “It was just a matter of time before it happened. I’m just glad he made it to the bus.”
“Could you help me lay him down better?”
“Let me,” Talon says, already moving. He tucks Cassian’s shoulder into a better position, adjusts his legs, and settles him so he’s not folded awkwardly against the seat.
I watch the whole thing, a little stunned by how effortless Talon makes it look.
“You make it look easy,” I say.
He snorts.
“I handled lots of drunk people back in the day. This is pretty similar.”
Not long after, Hailey and Lila climb onto the bus, and suddenly we’re basically good to go. I still have no idea where the hell this bus came from, or why all three of my men look like they’ve been dragged through literal hell, but for the next couple of hours, nobody asks questions. Nobody even tries.
We’re too exhausted.
Nathaniel passes out blankets to everyone except the killers. I take mine and curl in without thinking. The last thing I register is Cassian’s slow, heavy breathing in front of me. Then sleep takes me, and I drift out.
I wake up when it’s dark again.
Talon is asleep beside me, slumped in the seat where Alex used to be. Cassian is still in the exact same position Talon left him in, which can only mean Nathaniel is behind the wheel. I move my neck carefully, already bracing for the kind of pain that makes the room tilt and my stomach drop.
But surprisingly, nothing happens.
I lift my hand and press my fingers to my throat anyway, checking for the sting I’m expecting. Imagine my surprise when there’s no swelling under my touch, and the contact doesn’t hurt at all.
“What the hell?” I mutter.
The inside of the bus is dark. Not a single lamp is lit, and the only illumination comes from the moon and the passing highway lights that slide in and out through the windows. I turn toward the glass and try to catch my reflection, but everything outside is moving too fast, the view smearing and shifting, and I can’t make out anything clearly.
“Talon,” I whisper, laying a hand on his shoulder. He is wrapped in the blanket, but beneath it he is burning to the touch. “Hey, Talon…”
He doesn’t wake up. I try to shake him, but I can’t. It isn’t that he’s heavy or unresponsive in the way a sleeping person is. It’s me. I can’t put any pressure on him at all, as if my strength just refuses to transfer.
My hand doesn’t pass through him either. It simply stays there, suspended, like I can neither touch him fully nor slip through him. My eyebrows draw together.
What is going on?
Before panic can take root in my chest, a voice calls to me from the back of the bus.
