Not abruptly.
Deliberately.
The absence of him was immediate—the loss of that grounding pulse, that quiet alignment—but I didn't turn back. I let the space exist.
Because this part—
this part needed to be mine.
The heat had thickened into something oppressive now, pressing against my skin like a living thing. The air tasted wrong—burnt rubber, scorched wiring, and the stale, clinging scent of old diner grease rising from surfaces that had absorbed decades of memory.
Everything felt… close.
Too close.
I moved past the counter, my heels crunching over broken glass and scattered salt shakers, the sharp sound cutting through the low hum of the burning world outside.
Behind me, I could feel Reid watching.
Not interfering.
Trusting.
Good.
I stopped in front of Elena.
She looked up slowly.
Her face was streaked with soot and tears, her makeup smeared into something unrecognizable. The careful precision she had worn like armor was gone—what remained was raw, fractured, human.
