The gates of the compound creaked shut behind them. For the first time in what felt like months, the night air outside wasn't thick with incense, sweat, and chanting. It was clean. Cold. Almost startling in its purity.
Wolfe rolled his shoulders like a freed prisoner. "God. I didn't realize how much I missed the smell of plain dirt."
Leon gave a quiet grunt, scanning their surroundings one last time. Old habits didn't die so easily. Even after the cult was shattered, after Saluki's downfall and Deus Canis's disappearance, Leon's instincts wouldn't let him breathe fully until they were far from this ground.
The boy—they hadn't given him a name yet, though Wolfe had joked about calling him "Pup"—clung close. His eyes darted around, wide and fearful. He wasn't used to silence. To him, it must have felt like walking out of a storm into an empty field.
"Keep close," Leon told him gently. "We're going home."
The words carried more weight than he realized.
***
