~Laurent
The porch light of Denzel’s house cut through the wet night like an apology; the warm pool of lamplight made the yard look safer than it was. We set the bundles down without ceremony—Kendrix and Denzel hauling limp shapes, Ciela walking with a jitter that made me think the adrenaline hadn’t left her. The bodies were heavy, the cloth and blood and broken bone whispering between us like something that shouldn’t be touched.
Ivelle was at the door before we reached the steps, hair in a messy knot, face bright with concern and a relief that made her eyes shine. “You’re back,” she breathed. She stepped forward and then froze when she saw the new faces.
Ciela was already ahead of me; she moved with that practical, quick air she gets when there’s a problem that needs fixing. She glance
