By the time Scar returned to the Glacier Palace, it was already evening. Wallace flew the hovercraft in and landed on the Palace grounds. Scar was so tired that his head flopped to one side, and he almost fell asleep while riding back from Jane's house.
The drive back from the Carter Estate had been silent. Wallace hadn't asked about Scar's heavy breath, his torn sleeves, or the way his hands trembled faintly against his thighs. The old butler simply knew when to keep his mouth shut, and Scar was grateful for it.
He climbed out of the vehicle with a murmured thanks, every joint in his body issuing a formal protest.
He was exhausted.
Not injured.
Not incapable of moving.
Just thoroughly, deeply tired.
Jane had beaten him mercilessly during their Krav Maga training. It had been very intense.
