The van pulled into the underground garage at three in the morning.
The lights were low, the way they always were at this hour, casting long shadows across the concrete. The driver killed the engine and sat in silence, waiting. He didn't ask how it went. He didn't need to. He could feel it in the air.
Lucian got out first. His jacket was torn, hanging loose over his shoulders. The pendant was gone. He could still feel the weight of it in his hand, the warmth of the light, the moment it slipped from his grip. That feeling would stay with him for a long time.
Cora followed. Her jaw was tight, her hands still clenched. She hadn't spoken since the swim back. Neither had Margie. She walked behind Cora, her crossbow slung over her shoulder, her eyes fixed on Lucian's back.
Drusilla walked ahead of them all, her footsteps silent on the concrete. She didn't look back. Didn't offer comfort. She disappeared into the corridor without a word, her white hair vanishing around the corner.
