Orange had once been a town that pretended to be quieter than it really was, the kind of place built on wide streets, old brick, and the illusion that distance from the city meant distance from consequence. Now it felt stripped down to something more honest, its silence no longer peaceful but hollow, the storefronts dark, the windows either shattered or boarded, the roads littered with abandoned vehicles that had long since stopped being obstacles and started being part of the terrain.
Lucan did not slow when they arrived.
The world folded and unfolded around them with the same quiet efficiency he had used to bring her here, his hand firm at her waist, his body the only constant through the shift. When the ground settled beneath their feet again, it was not the open road anymore but the interior of something chosen.
