Chapter 486
[ 483 words ]
Chapter 486:
“Brenna, that was such an incredible experience, wasn’t it?” one of them gushed, her eyes fixed on Brenna with a predatory gleam. “Your father must be so proud.”
“We should all get drinks to celebrate our return,” another chimed in, already pulling out her phone.
Caroline felt the air thicken with their cloying insincerity. A familiar exhaustion, deeper than any physical fatigue from the disaster zone, settled over her. This was the world she had left behind. The one she wasn’t sure she fit into anymore.
She gave Brenna’s arm a light squeeze. “I’m just going to wait over there,” she murmured, nodding toward a marble pillar near the edge of the platform.
𝖱e𝗮𝖽 𝘰𝘯 𝗮𝗻у 𝗱𝘦𝘷𝗂𝖼𝘦 о𝗻 𝘨а𝗅𝗻o𝘃𝖾𝘭𝗌.𝖼𝘰𝗆
She hoisted her duffel bag, the strap digging into her shoulder, and walked away from the chattering circle. She leaned against the cool stone, the noise of the station a welcome buffer. She felt their eyes on her back, could almost hear the shift in their conversation now that the object of their flattery was distracted.
Through the massive arched windows of the station, she could see the VIP pickup lane. A black Lincoln Navigator, its tinted windows gleaming under the station lights, pulled smoothly to the curb. The license plate was a simple, severe combination of letters and numbers that meant nothing to most people, but everything to the few who knew.
The driver’s door opened, and Alistair Finch stepped out. Even from this distance, his posture was ramrod straight, his dark suit a declaration of authority.
Back on the platform, the conversation had indeed shifted.
“Can you believe she still carries that ratty old bag?” one of the girls, Vivian Rusk, said in a stage whisper that was designed to carry. “Romero money buys a private pickup, but apparently not luggage.”
“Maybe humble is part of the performance,” another snickered. “Disaster-zone saint with a military escort. Very curated.”
Caroline closed her eyes. She had faced down aftershocks, worked under failing lights, and held the hands of the dying. The petty cruelty of these women felt absurd, like a gnat buzzing around her head. It was annoying, but beneath her notice.
She opened her eyes again, her gaze fixed on the station’s main entrance. She saw Alistair walk through the doors, his movements economical and precise. He paused, his eyes scanning the crowd, a predator searching for its target. He adjusted the knot of his tie, a small, habitual gesture. A wave of unexpected warmth washed over her. It was the feeling of a pack member arriving. The feeling of home.
The whispers behind her grew louder, bolder.
“Honestly, the rest of us had to earn every hour we were there,” Vivian said. “Must be nice to have Colonel Romero’s name clearing every path before you even ask.”
The accusation hung in the air, sharp and ugly.
Caroline’s patience, worn thin by exhaustion and the lingering stress of the past weeks, finally snapped. She couldn’t take it anymore.
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