Naomi’s Pov;

The convoy cut through the fog like ghosts.

Three armored trucks, two escort bikes, and one black sedan, Cassian’s. We moved before sunrise, the city still half-asleep, its streets slick with last night’s rain. I sat in the back seat beside Mara, the cold pressing against the windows.

Cassian drove. Of course he did. He trusted no one else with the wheel, not when I was inside.

He hadn’t said much since the morning briefing. Every command came short and measured. Every look calculated. But I could feel the tension under his composure the kind that stretched tight enough to snap.

When the city fell behind us, replaced...