The next fuel stop came an hour later, just shy of sunrise. One of those rest areas with a vending machine shack, overgrown grass, and absolutely no good reason to exist.

Gabriel was halfway through another cup of terrible coffee, and Thane was standing outside the van stretching, tail flicking in the early morning breeze. Maya was pacing near the back, earbuds still in, but now visibly relaxed—though she kept glancing at the tree line like she was expecting that creeper to reappear for round two.

And then came Mark.

No one heard him walk up. No one ever did.

He just appeared, clutching a half-eaten bag of pretzels, with that same eternally bored expression like someone had dragged him out of bed and he still hadn’t forgiven them.

He eyed Thane.

Then Gabriel.

Then Maya.

Then back to Thane.

“…So. Hero complex kicked in tonight, huh?”

Thane tilted his head. “Did what needed to be done.”

Mark crunched a pretzel. Loudly. Stared at him. “You know she’s going to give you hell for that for the next three cities, right?”

Maya didn’t even look up. “Damn right I am.”

Gabriel, from the other side of the van, casually leaned over the hood. “Oh, it’s fine. He’s got backup. I already gave him the guilt trip and threatened to bite him.”

Mark raised one graying eyebrow. “Did you now.”

Thane sighed. “He was tired.”

Gabriel raised his cup. “Caffeine-deprived. Very fragile.”

Mark popped another pretzel in his mouth, chewing slowly. Thoughtful.

“…You two are exhausting.”

He turned to walk back toward the van but paused just long enough to deadpan over his shoulder:

“Next time someone needs to be scared off, let me do it. I don’t need to growl. I just exist.”