She'd been less focused on safety than trying to outrun the litany that had been pounding through her head ever since she'd heard Max's news.
Michael was dead. They killed Michael.
She grabbed her knife -- wishing she had her wrist crossbow unit that Michael had gotten for her. She was heartbroken, finding it hard to breathe. She couldn't imagine a world without him.
When he arrived, part of her was upset that he sounded more annoyed with her than anything. Here she was, crying and shaking because she'd thought she'd lost him and his first words to her were a lecture.
"I might have been," she whispered honestly, standing still and looking him over completely to make sure he was still in one piece.