Marybeth cleared her throat. "Malcolm. Iyisha. Go rest. We'll take first watch."
Iyisha grumbled. "No. Go—"
Marybeth's eyes widened at her.
Iyisha stopped.
The warning was clear.
Talk.
She dragged in a shaky breath and stood. "Right. Let's go."
She looked at Malcolm.
He was still sitting with his elbows on his knees. His hand was around the rifle strap. His thumb kept rubbing the same spot on the leather.
He heard Marybeth.
He just did not move yet.
Iyisha waited.
Malcolm stood after a second. He picked up the rifle, checked the hallway, then looked back at the others once. Marybeth gave him a small nod. Lance watched from the sofa, pale and quiet.
Iyisha turned away before anyone could look at her too long.
They went upstairs to the second floor and took the farthest room. No one needed to hear them.
The door closed behind them with a soft scrape.
