Silence settles back over us, but the initial, blinding rage is starting to wear off, leaving a strange, hollow exhaustion in its wake. The snow is coming down harder now, heavy sheets of white sweeping across the road.
I watch the windshield wipers sweep back and forth, the rhythmic thump-click anchoring the quiet.
"Did Locke look... I don't know," Jade starts softly, her voice losing its sharp edge, sounding smaller now. "Did he look off to you this morning?"
I pause, keeping my eyes on the highway. "He looked like he hadn't slept a second."
"Mayhem didn't either," Jade admits quietly, her fingers tracing a line in the condensation on her window. "Every time I moved last night, he was wide awake, just staring at the door. He was holding his gun under his pillow the whole night, Zara.
