Noah
The gravel didn't just kick up; it rained against the metal side of the nearest trailer in a fast, loud spray.
A car tore down the narrow access road, moving way too fast for a site choked with heavy equipment and wet dirt.
It swerved around a parked forklift, tires screaming on the wet patch of road, and skidded to a dead stop right at the edge of the mud.
For a second, the whole place went dead silent.
The heavy thrum of the diesel generators seemed to drop out. High-vis vests froze in place.
Two structural engineers stopped mid-argument, their heads turning toward the car. Beside me, Cassian's posture shifted in a heartbeat...
Then the driver's side door flew open.
Cyan stepped out into the mud.
He was wearing oversized black sunglasses that made no sense given the gray, dreary sky, and a coat that looked like it belonged on a runway in Paris, not a torn-up construction lot.
