Pierre stepped back from the wheel, his ribs screaming in protest. Raven moved to take his place. She adjusted their heading slightly, her fingers dancing over the spokes like she was playing a familiar instrument.
"We're making good time," she said, eyes fixed on the horizon. "Should reach the outer shipping lanes by tomorrow evening."
"And then?"
Raven's shoulders tensed. "That depends on what you want to do with your share of the money."
Your share. Not our share. Not what we want to do. The careful distance in her voice was like a wall going up between them.
Pierre understood the impulse. Getting attached to people was dangerous in their line of work. It made you vulnerable. It made you do stupid things like risking your life for someone else's principles.
But understanding didn't make it hurt any less.
