The humvee rumbled steady beneath us, tires chewing through broken pavement as Aubrey leaned forward and plugged something into the dash.
Static crackled—
Then a beat slid in.
Loose. Confident. Old-world cool. Something that felt like OutKast even if it wasn't.
Aubrey huffed a quiet laugh as she settled back into her seat.
"That Samuel guy's got good taste," she muttered.
Terri, riding shotgun, picked up the rhythm almost immediately, humming under her breath, fingers tapping lightly against her knee.
Behind us, Peter's humvee followed close—his family packed inside, silhouettes shifting with the road.
Ahead, Hale drove alone, the lead vehicle cutting a path through the ruined streets like he always did— focused, unyielding, unbothered by the weight of what we'd just escaped.
I leaned back despite myself.
And smiled.
It startled me how natural it felt.
Warmth crept into my chest—slow, unfamiliar. Not adrenaline. Not relief alone.
Something closer to whole.
