While Don settled into something resembling peace, several miles out, Trixie stood on unstable earth.
Her eyes narrowed, still locked on the dark where Sister Rose had disappeared. The sounds had stopped—no more meat-squelch, no more dragging. Just silence.
Then, slowly, Rose stepped back into view.
Whatever had happened to her in that darkness, it hadn't healed her—it had changed her. Her body was still smeared with blood, but now caked in clumps of dirt too, the kind that stuck to wet flesh in patches.
It coated her thighs, her chest, her arms. It was hard to even tell she was naked anymore.
Her movements were slower this time. Not from pain. Something else.
Her eyes found Elle.
And for the first time… there was hesitation.
Not in her steps. Not in her voice.