Ash didn’t sleep that night.
He sat at the edge of the motel bed, cigarette burning low between his fingers, eyes fixed on the small window that faced the dark stretch of highway. Every time a truck rumbled by, his body tensed, half-expecting to hear the distant roar of the S.O.W. bikes instead.
But the road stayed quiet. The town stayed peaceful.
And somewhere beyond that peace was her.
He could still see the faint curve of her smile as she handed a customer a paper bag. The sunlight that morning had caught the edge of her hair, glowing soft gold. It hadn’t been a dream.
Cordelia was alive.
Living under a name that wasn’t hers.
And she looked… free.
Ash took a slow drag, smoke curling up into the dark.
He should be happy about that. He was happy about that...at least, that’s what
