CASSIAN
I drove the car myself. Julian sat in the passenger seat, staring out at the city lights as they blurred past the window. Our backup followed in the car behind us. No one spoke.
The silence lasted twelve minutes. I didn't push him. I knew Julian. I had studied him for years, watching the way he breathed and the way he moved until I knew his rhythms better than my own.
"I caused trouble for you, didn't I," he said finally. His voice was quiet, directed at the glass. It wasn't a question. He had already done the math.
"It's handled," I said.
He made a small sound that might have been a laugh if he weren't so tired. "Yeah," he whispered. "Sure."
"Julian—"
"I'm tired, Cassian," he said, cutting me off. He closed the subject the way he always did when he didn't want to look at something.
I looked at his profile in the dark. The bruised jaw, the dark blood on his lip. I didn't push. I told myself he would come to me when he was ready. He always had.
