LUCY
Tavric is driving now.
In the six hours since we fled the wreckage of Amara's apartment, Jaxl had been the one navigating the heavy, black armored SUV—a Terran Overlander that seemed built for war rather than highways.
He had only handed over the wheel an hour ago, finally succumbing to sleep in the passenger seat.
Beside me, Amara has been dead to the world for the past four hours, her head lolling against the window. It's a necessary rest though; she needs to rebuild every ounce of strength for the massive teleportation jump that will happen once we clear the human sectors.
And… In the hour since Jaxl fell asleep, a new kind of silence has settled into the cabin.
It isn't the comfortable, companionable quiet we had reveled in earlier; this one is every shade of uncomfortable and tense. It's a thick, heavy pressure that makes me restless, pinning me to my seat while my mind races.
"Tavric…" I finally give in.
