The yacht rocked gently on the waves, the island finally shrinking into the distance.

Michael sat at the back of the boat, wrapped in a blanket, shivering despite himself. His hair was still damp from the rain, his clothes cold and clinging uncomfortably to his skin. He coughed weakly into his sleeve, the last traces of the Scorpius Rex venom still lingering in his system.

But at least he was recovering. At least… they were leaving.

After everything—the dinosaurs, the monsters, the running—they were finally going home.

He should’ve felt relieved. Happy, even. Instead, he just felt… tired.

Yaz sat down next to him, arms resting on her knees. She didn’t say anything, just stared out at the water.

“…You okay?” she asked after a moment.

Michael let out a breath. “I don’t know.” He swallowed, his throat raw. “It’s over, right? We actually made it?”

Yaz hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. We did.”

Michael wanted to believe that. He really did. But something inside him refused to relax. The island was behind them, but it didn’t feel over. Not yet.

The yacht rocked again, and Michael closed his eyes, resting his head against the rail. He didn’t want to think anymore. For now, all he wanted was sleep.