The Humvee rumbled beneath us, tires humming softly over cracked asphalt as the road stretched ahead. I leaned my head back against the seat and looked out the window.
The sky was bruised purple and pink, the sun hanging low on the horizon like it was reluctant to leave. For a moment—just a moment—it eased something in my chest.
It had been hours since the expedition.
We'd done well. Better than expected.
Canned food. Hardware. Medical scraps. Whatever wasn't nailed down and still useful, bundled tight in the back. A win.
I let out a slow breath.
The kind you only allow yourself when you're afraid that if you relax too much, something bad will notice.
I pulled my gaze from the sky and looked beside me.
Cherie sat there with her arms loosely crossed, boots braced against the floor, eyes forward. The fading light caught the sharp angles of her face, the scar tissue around her missing fingers.
A lot had changed about her.
More than I'd realized.
