You are almost out.
When I step back into the main area of the station, the bus is pulling up outside, and relief hits so sharply I almost laugh.
I board quickly and choose a seat near the back on the window side, and I slide down low enough that my face is partially hidden while keeping my eyes on the reflection in the glass.
More passengers trickle in, and the driver checks tickets without looking closely.
And then I see him.
Ezra stands outside the bus, posture rigid and controlled, his gaze scanning the windows with lethal focus, and even from this distance I can feel the bond straining toward him like it wants to betray me.
I shrink lower in my seat and angle my face toward the aisle.
He does not see me.
The doors hiss closed.
The engine rumbles.
As the vehicle pulls away, I
