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She was bundled up in Darien’s winter jacket, her seat partially reclined. It was comfortably warm in here, which told her that her condition had improved, if only a little, after getting some rest. But she was still so tired her bones positivelyached,and a wicked tension headache was setting in. Likely from lack of adequate sleep, hydration, and nutrition.

That and everything else that was wrong with her.

Darien was so lost in thought, he hadn’t noticed that she was awake. His face was grave, his features washed with the cool glow of the dashboard. The silver monster’s head rings on his left hand caught the bluish light as he steered, the tips of the horns winking like little stars.

She observed him in silence for a few minutes. He grabbed his phone. Checked the screen. Set it down. Then rested an elbow against his door, hand idly rubbing his chin.

Watching him fight for his family as fiercely as he had tonight was incredible. Calling each and every one of them multipletimes to aid them in their escape. He’d even called Max, unaware that the friend he’d argued with only hours prior had opted to go with Ivy to find Paxton, Eugene, and Tanner. But while his actions made her extremely proud, she only felt worse about the fact that he’d gotten her out of Yveswich safely and not the others.

He’d tried, yes. Had done everything he could to help them while isolated on the other side of the forcefield. But until they heard from Ivy, Tanner, Roman, Max, Travis, and everyone else… Well, there was no telling if they were okay. If they had made it out on time. And so this guilt she felt for making him choose between her and them would remain.

“Did you hear from the others?” Her question was a crackle—a barely-there whisper. Gods, she was parched. The last thing she’d drunk was that cola after leaving the hospital. A glass of cold water sounded incredible right about now.

Darien’s head turned her way, the surprise on his face betraying that he’d really had no clue that she was awake. It was so unlike him to be unaware of his surroundings—of her, especially. The gods knew he deserved a break from being so hyper-fixated on everything going on in the universe, but it was certainly out of character for him.

“Not yet,” he replied. “Did you get some rest?”

“A little.” She adjusted her seat so she was sitting up straight.

He returned to staring at the road, an elbow propped against his door, his jaw resting against his tattooed knuckles. There was a crease between his brows, the dark half-moons that were etched under his eyes betraying his exhaustion. And?—

She frowned. Were those beads of sweat glistening on his forehead and cheeks? It wasn’tthatwarm in here, was it?

She cleared her throat. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said without looking at her. “Just tired.”Just tiredwas an understatement, she knew. While she’d managed tocatch a couple of hours’ worth of shut-eye, he on the other hand hadn’t slept in…over forty-eight hours, she would guess. Best case scenario.

She pulled her sleeves—hissleeves—over her fingers. “How close is the next town?” She covered her mouth as she yawned.

He stayed frozen in the same tense position, his eyes briefly flashing to the navigation screen. “About an hour.”

“Are we stopping?”

“For food,” he replied. He still wasn’t looking at her. “And to charge the vehicles. Whether we get a hotel will depend on a few things.” Availability was one, Loren figured. With all the evacuees pouring out of Yveswich, hotels with vacant rooms would be slim-pickings. How the others felt about stopping was another factor. Hopefully Arthur had managed to get some sleep in the back seat of the truck.

The interstate was busy, but it wasn’t as bad as when they’d first left Yveswich. There were more lanes now—six across on both sides of the median strip—which helped put some distance between each vehicle.

It felt strange to be between cities on unprotected land—especially at nighttime. These past few months had brought many dangerous experiences into Loren’s life that she had never once dreamed of doing, let alone living to tell of them.

As the hour wore on, Darien began to show signs of not just fatigue, but irritation, too. Every blink was fierce, every movement he made—checking his phone, adjusting the temperature dials, flicking on the turn signal—brusque and impatient. Instead of sitting statue-still like before, he fidgeted a lot and raked his fingers through his hair.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” he blurted. He was already searching the pockets of his jacket.

She shook her head.

He cracked his window open, placed a cigarette between his teeth, and lit up. He smoked it like it was oxygen, burning it right down to the filter, and then promptly lit a second one. As the minutes ticked by and she hardly smelled any tobacco, she squinted, her imperfect vision just barely making out the shimmer of magic surrounding him.

“Can you do me a favor and message Lace?” he asked, blowing a stream of bluish smoke toward his cracked-open window. “Let her know we’ll be stopping in Réalta.” When she reached for her phone, he told her, “You can use mine. I added your fingerprint.”

She grabbed his phone and flattened her thumb over the sensor.

It unlocked. She opened his messages and clicked onLace Rivera.

The urge to scroll up and read the full conversation wasstrong.Embarrassingly strong.

“You can look if you want,” Darien said quietly, his focus still on the road.

Loren stiffened. How the heck did he always know what she was thinking, feeling? Even through the magic of the Avertera talisman, healwaysknew.