The house smelled like antiseptic and something faintly floral—maybe soap, maybe perfume someone hadn’t worn in a while but still clung to the air. Glenn hovered just inside the doorway, leaning against the frame, arms crossed over his chest as he watched Maggie work on T-Dog’s arm.

The guy was doing his best to keep still, but even with the alcohol, the sweat rolling off him told the story. It was a mess, worse up close than it had looked out there on the road, and Glenn found himself clenching his jaw without meaning to.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The floor creaked, and Maggie glanced up at him for half a second before going back to her work.

It felt weird being inside—safe. Too quiet compared to the highway, the woods, everything outside. Like they’d stepped out of the end of the world and back into something that still worked. Except it didn’t. Not really. Not for them, anyway. His fingers twitched against his sleeve. He wanted to be doing something—anything—but all he could do was stand there and watch.

His mind kept drifting, snagging on thoughts he didn’t want to let in. Her.

She should’ve been here by now. She should’ve been right there with them, stepping inside like the rest of the group, maybe nudging him with her elbow and cracking some half-joke about farmhouses and country living. He could picture the smile she’d give him—warm, steady, the kind that made it feel like everything was going to be okay, even when he knew better.

But she wasn’t here. She hadn’t come out of the woods with Sophia, hadn’t appeared with some miraculous timing to ease the knot in his chest. And now, every time he thought about it, it felt harder to breathe.

Maggie’s voice broke the silence, murmuring something to T-Dog. Glenn barely caught it—something about stitches holding up if he didn’t move too much. He nodded, even though it wasn’t meant for him.

His eyes darted to the window, where the last traces of daylight were fading into a murky blue-gray. Night was setting in.