The air still burned faintly, carrying the sll of oil and hot sand.
Nothing moved... and that was part of the problem.
The horizon was flat and wrong, the kind that made every sound feel louder than it should, that made every sound echo around them.
Lachlan stood beside Sera, the Humr cooling behind them, its tal ticking softly.
The quiet wasn’t peace. It was the kind that pressed into your ribs and waited to see what you’d do next.
He could hear Elias breathing sowhere behind the truck, the faint scrape of a wrench, the clink of Zubair’s binocular strap. Alexei’s voice stayed muted on the comm—listening, not talking.
Sera hadn’t spoken since the last report. She watched the line where dust t sky like it might finally give her an answer. Her stillness wasn’t calm; it was calculation.
Lachlan’s creature stirred, a low pulse under his sternum.
She holds the line. You hold her. That’s the shape. Don’t drift.
"I’m not," he murmured.
You are. Every ti she looks away.
He swallowed the argunt and let his shoulder touch the door just below her arm.
Not a full lean—just enough contact to remind his body where it was supposed to be.
She didn’t move away.
He swallowed again. "You hungry?" It ca out rougher than he ant. Food. Rest. Sothing to keep her from hollowing out more than she already had.
"Later," she answered with a shake of her head. Lachlan didn’t get upset. She heard what he ant anyway.
The creature rolled, pleased.
Ask again. Bring her what she doesn’t na.
"Not now," he told it. "Work."
It purred, not angry—just patient.
When the radio cracked—Zubair calling the next move—Sera pushed off the door and looked at him once more. "Let’s finish it before the light changes."
"It never changes," he replied.
"Exactly."
She turned toward the truck. Lachlan followed, heartbeat steady, the creature humming in rhythm.
He fought the urge to check the Humr’s interior the way he always did after soone else had driven it.
The seat was back a notch, the mirror turned higher.
Zubair’s settings, not his.
It shouldn’t have bothered him, but it did.
That Humr had been his first mistake and his last luxury, bought with pay that had once ant freedom. Now it was a shared tool—hers, theirs, everyone’s.
He let the irritation fade when her hand brushed the door again. The truck stopped being his the mont she touched it.
Elias tightened a clamp and rose. "Radiator’s holding. Two burns before we need a longer cool if we keep the speed right."
"Good," Zubair replied without turning. "South mast first. Then north. Yard after."
Alexei ca through the comm, calm as ever. "Both masts mapped. Wind wrong for the long pull, fine for the short. Call it."
Sera looked at Lachlan. "You with ?"
He nodded and moved into place—left of her, ahead of Elias, behind Zubair’s shoulder. The creature approved.
Guard. Closer. You shade her eyes.
He didn’t crowd her; he didn’t need to. The axis was set. When she moved, he’d move. When she stopped, he’d stop. If the yard grew teeth again, he’d be the first to bite back.
He checked himself the way Elias would’ve checked him: fingers steady, pupils normal, breath even. The hum beneath his skin stayed low, manageable. He hated admitting that she was the reason for that control—but he liked what it gave him.
"You can breathe," she said, almost amused.
"Guess so."
"Stay with ."
"Always."
The line on the comm opened again. Alexei: "South mast ready."
"Stand by," Zubair answered, eyes flicking toward Sera. It wasn’t command, just permission handed to the one who carried the weight.
"Take it," she told them. "Quiet."
Lachlan listened to the silence that followed. One breath. One shift of weight. Then a dull thump—a clean kill. He exhaled, not relieved, but satisfied.
"South blind," Alexei reported.
"North next," Zubair replied.
Sera tilted her head, hearing sothing none of them could. Lachlan waited.
A thin two-stroke engine note cut across the basin from a goat path. Courier. Lachlan’s finger twitched against his thigh before Zubair spoke.
Sera’s voice ca through, quiet. "He’s just running."
Zubair nodded once, eyes on the scope. "Let him. He’ll only die tired."
Lachlan’s jaw flexed. He let the twitch go. "Copy."
The bike disappeared into the shimr. The compound settled again—clanks, murmurs, the scrape of cages shifting. The stage stood empty, still pretending it mattered without the voice that gave it purpose.
Alexei: "North blind."
Zubair: "Fuel yard next."
Sera didn’t issue the correction, only glanced toward the silos. "If we can, keep them intact. Might be useful later."
Lachlan’s brow lifted. "Keeping their pantry?"
"Keeping anything they think is theirs."
He grinned at her. "That’s seems fair."
She didn’t smile back, but her eyes ward. It was enough.
Zubair checked the wind with a flick of his handkerchief and started assigning positions. "Lachlan overwatch. Sera and I on approach. Elias tail. Alexei west-line eyes."
"Here," Lachlan confird.
Elias brushed a knuckle across his shoulder. "Keep it level."
"Already am."
The creature snorted.
You weren’t. She steadied you. Don’t forget it. When you lose control, she is your leash, your teather.
"I understand."
He looked at Sera again because he could. She t his look, unflinching, and gave him a small nod that hit harder than any praise. Words weren’t needed after that. His hum and heartbeat aligned.
Zubair tapped his mic. "On my mark."
Lachlan rolled his shoulders once, grounding himself.
Around her, silence had shape—it pressed down but didn’t suffocate. He’d spent most of his life trying to fill space with noise because quiet used to an you didn’t exist. Here, it ant you were seen.
She makes you visible, the creature murmured. No tricks. No show.
He didn’t argue. He just shifted his stance, placing himself between her and the open yard. If the ground tilted, his hand would be there. She didn’t need it. He still offered.
"Mark," Zubair breathed.
They moved.
The descent toward the compound felt like stepping through heat that wouldn’t end. The air shimred with the ghosts of burned tal and gasoline.
Every sound had a twin—one real, one imagined.
Lachlan kept pace beside Sera. Every sense locked on her movent. He wasn’t protecting her anymore. He was matching her, step for step, heartbeat for heartbeat.
Whatever waited past the next ridge could co. He’d already found the only thing in this world that made him stop running.
And as he fell into step with her, the hum under his skin synced perfectly with hers, the line between want and work thinning until it was one continuous pulse that carried them both forward.
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