The Montana bunker had become a sanctuary of uneasy peace.
Michael stood at the entrance, the cold wind biting at his face as he stared out at the snow-covered mountains. Three weeks had passed since their return from the Andromeda Galaxy, three weeks since the Sentinels had shown him the future of humanity, three weeks since he'd accepted his role as the guide toward that future.
But the peace felt hollow. Fragile. Like a glass bubble that could shatter at any moment.
Clarice appeared beside him, her hand slipping into his. "You're doing it again," she said softly.
"Doing what?"
"Standing out here, staring at the mountains like you're waiting for something to happen."
Michael was silent for a long moment. Then he said, "Because I am. The Sentinels showed me the future, but they didn
