The wives were shattered.

Angharad—gone. Just like that.

Cheedo was inconsolable.

They’d watched in helpless horror as she fought to climb back into the rig. But her foot slipped on the blood-slicked metal. The door swung wildly on its hinges, and in a blink, she was gone—flung beneath the crushing wheels of their former captor’s rig.

Immortan Joe.

That monstrous man.

Cheedo couldn’t remember when she stopped crying—or if she had. Everything inside her had gone quiet, cold, and numb. She sat wedged between Dag, curled tightly against the side of the rig where Angharad had fallen, and Capable, her face buried in her hands. Toast sat beside her, gently tracing slow, steady circles between Capable’s shoulder blades.

Cheedo gasped for breath in shallow, panicked bursts—hyperventilating but nearly silent now, too exhausted to sob anymore.

She didn’t even have Angharad’s shoulder to cry into anymore.

That hurt more than the crying itself.