The rest of the flight was a blur of engine hums and dull aches. My leg was throbbing, and a heavy cloud of fatigue settled over my brain. By the time the wheels hit the tarmac, the sky outside was a bruised purple.
We moved through the terminal in a strange, silent procession. When we reached the main lobby, I turned to Jeremiah.
“Alpha, you should go,” I said, keeping my tone light. “I’ve already called a friend. Clementine is on her way to pick me up. You look like you need a real bed.”
Jeremiah didn't smile. His face stayed like stone, but I saw a flicker of something dark in his eyes. He gave me a single, sharp nod. He didn't say goodbye. He didn't even look at Barnabas. He just turned on his heel and walked toward the sliding glass doors.
Barnabas didn't seem to care that we were
