That afternoon, Lara rode back with Liam, Persius, and Amelia.
The vehicle rumbled steadily across the uneven terrain, its tires crunching over gravel and loose stone as the southern sector came into view. Dust trailed behind them like a fading shadow, swallowed by the heat-heavy air.
Inside, no one spoke.
The silence wasn't empty—it was thick, stretched tight with unasked questions and half-formed suspicions.
Lara sat still, her gaze fixed ahead, though she wasn't really seeing the road. She was waiting—watching—for someone else to break first.
But no one did.
Persius leaned back, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
Liam kept his focus on the path ahead, jaw set, hands steady on the wheel.
And beside Lara, Amelia sat unusually quiet, her fingers lightly gripping the edge of her seat.
Each of them was thinking the same thing.
Just waiting for someone else to say it.
Amelia drew in a slow breath, her lips parting as she finally gathered the courage to speak—
