Chapter 15: The Hollow
The silence inside the MULE’s brushed-aluminum cabin was a thin, fragile membrane, and beneath it roared a static of dismantled certainties. Andrew drove mechanically, his hands at ten and two on the steering wheel, his knuckles pale under the dashboard’s green glow. The fine charcoal wool of Will’s suit jacket was a prison against his skin, still carrying the phantom scents of the gala—perfume, champagne, beeswax—overlaid now with the cold, metallic smell of his own