Selene
Morning hit us like a frying pan to the face.
The sun peeked through the trees like it had no idea what chaos we just survived, birds chirping obnoxiously, like good morning, heroes! I hated them. My back ached, my legs were sore, and the tent smelled faintly of blood, wind, and Azriel.
I still didn't want to leave it.
But we had plans, and unfortunately, plans meant squeezing seven magically unhinged people into a car designed for four emotionally repressed capitalists.
Which is how we ended up standing around Azriel's Mercedes Benz C-Class, blinking.
"There's no way," Nyra muttered, arms crossed, giving the car a deadpan look. "This thing is giving 'billionaire loner who doesn't do carpool.'"
"It's one of many," Azriel mumbled, unlocking it with a click. "The others are in storage."
I turned toward him. "Storage?"
He shrugged, looking stupidly good in his black hoodie and combat boots. "I used to run three companies before this one. I needed the vehicles for image."
