Zubair didn’t waste ti arguing about the route again.
They were already committed the mont he said ’Perdition’ out loud. The road behind them was dead space and the road ahead was the only place that might still contain information that would allow Sera to continue living.
After all, the Wardens, or whatever they were, did make reference to the Sherrif telling them to never co back.
Unfortunately for everyone, he didn’t believe in "safe" anymore, not after watching Sera’s body stay open and then seal wrong.
And so, he would move on what he could control.
First things first. He couldn’t drive and hold her at the sa ti, and she couldn’t be left on the floor of the truck like cargo.
So he stepped in close, slid his arms under her carefully, and lifted her with the kind of precision he usually saved for weapons of mass destruction. Her head lolled slightly, and he corrected it imdiately, refusing to let her neck take the strain.
Then he turned and handed her to Caerwyn.
There was no ceremony to it. No exchange of trust. No permission granted.
Caerwyn took her without hesitation, his grip firm and exact. He didn’t cradle her like she was delicate. He braced her like she was important and movent of any kind was unacceptable.
Zubair watched his hands. "Keep pressure off her midsection," he growled, hating the fact that he had to rely on an unknown to look after her.
"I can see the wound," Caerwyn replied, his voice devoid of any type of emotion.
The tone made it clear he considered the instruction unnecessary, but Zubair didn’t care.
Psycho opened the rear door and cleared the back seat with a kick, shoving bags and loose gear toward the floor. Aerenyx watched the treeline while he did it, his gaze sliding over angles and distance without appearing to track anything specific.
Without a word, Zubair slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
The sound was too loud in the aftermath, too normal, like even the truck should have reacted to Sera getting hurt that badly. Zubair checked mirrors, checked the road, checked the fuel gauge, and forced his breathing to stay controlled.
If he let himself feel what he wanted to feel, he would burn the world down and that still would not fix her.
So, they did the next best thing. They left the second of the road that still had Sera’s wet blood pooling on the asphalt.
The first several minutes were nothing but motion and silence.
Caerwyn sat behind him with Sera secured against his chest.
One arm was locked around her back while the other hand braced at her shoulder. Her head was supported by his arm so that it didn’t bounce with the road, but that didn’t an that Zubair wasn’t driving like he was carrying precious treasure.
And still...Sera didn’t move.
Her breathing stayed shallow and steady, like nothing he had ever heard from her, and Zubair was listening for changes he couldn’t see.
He watched her lips for color. He watched her throat for the small movent of a swallow that never ca.
He had no patience for false calm.
Psycho broke the silence first, because of course he did.
"Well," he said, voice light in a way that didn’t match the situation, "this is fun. New Seelie Lord. Dead Wardens. Sera unconscious. I feel like we’re collecting problems like Pokemon now."
"Shut up," Zubair said without looking back.
Psycho didn’t take offense. "That’s fair," he replied with a shrug. "But the next ti you tell that, you better have a Lord or sothing backing you up because I will not put up with disrespect from a human. And you, Zaddy, are the only human left in this truck. In case you forget."
Aerenyx leaned forward slightly in the passenger seat, his eyes fixed on the road. He wasn’t tense, but the stillness in him was not relaxation. It was the kind of restraint Zubair had seen in soldiers right before they moved.
"We need to decide what matters most," Aerenyx said.
Zubair’s hands tightened on the wheel. "We already did," Zubair replied. "Sera."
Aerenyx didn’t argue but kept pushing forward. "That includes what happens when she wakes," Aerenyx continued. "Or what will happen if she doesn’t."
Zubair cut his eyes to him for half a second.
"She will," he said.
It wasn’t optimism. It was a refusal to accept any other outco.
Psycho made a quiet sound in the back, like he’d swallowed a laugh and decided against it. Caerwyn didn’t react at all. If anything, his posture tightened by a fraction, adjusting Sera again as the truck hit a rough patch.
Zubair took the next stretch of broken road slower.
He hated that he noticed the difference between Caerwyn’s care and Zubair’s. Zubair’s was imdiate, instinctive, physical. Caerwyn’s was structural and absolute, like he’d decided she was his responsibility and the rest of the world could complain later.
It made Zubair want to punch him.
It also made Zubair grateful that Sera wasn’t sliding around in the back seat.
’No safe hands,’ Psycho had said.
Zubair understood what he ant, but he wasn’t going to let that beco so dramatic truth. Hands were hands. Bodies were bodies. You used what you had.
He checked the fuel gauge again.
Still under half.
They weren’t going to make it forever without stopping, and Sera couldn’t reach into her space for gas if she was unconscious. Zubair didn’t say that out loud yet. He wanted one problem at a ti.
He focused on what they’d actually learned.
Eight Wardens. Pale clothing. A blade that cut Sera when nothing else ever had. Wardens calling her a threat to a throne, speaking like they had permission to say it.
Permission didn’t co from the air.
Permission ca from structure.
"Say it again," Zubair said, voice flat.
Aerenyx glanced at him. "Say what again."
"The part that matters," Zubair replied. "Wardens."
Aerenyx didn’t hesitate. "They enforce succession law," he said. "Borders. bloodline violations. threats to legitimacy."
Zubair kept his eyes on the road. "And they don’t freelance."
"No," Aerenyx said. "They don’t improvise. They do what they’re sent to do. And they don’t stop until it is done."
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