Meredith.
The silence between us deepened, but it wasn't uncomfortable.
The soft tick of the cooling engine filled the air, and the faint glow from the dashboard traced the sharp edges of Draven's face—the set of his jaw, the calm that never seemed to break even after everything we had survived tonight.
I studied him quietly. There were traces of exhaustion around his eyes, though he would never admit it if I asked.
Without thinking, I reached for his hand—my fingers brushing over his knuckles before he turned his palm upward to meet mine. His grip was warm, solid.
Outside, faint movements broke the stillness. A few shadows emerged from the treeline—the scouts returning.
Draven immediately straightened, his senses sharpening. I turned to look through the window. One of the scouts raised his hand in signal, and the others spread out to secure the perimeter.
Draven reached for the door handle. "All clear."
