No matter how Mav looked at it, he’d lost the van. 

Ambling down one of the streets, limbs lethargic from his use of flames, Mav could only glance about in pursuit of his prey. After several minutes of running and periodic explosions to help him keep up, the vehicle entered a tunnel. Easy, right? All Mav had to do was get to the other side first and he’d get them. Right? 

Apparently, that tunnel had multiple exits. Mav found one, but that van never drove by. Even after minutes of waiting. 

Dammit. Mav punched a wall. 

Passersby gave him a wide berth, but he was unfortunately getting used to that. His sprint and explosion-leaps had scattered crowds. Guilt squirmed in his stomach at the thought of scaring civilians, but it had all been in the name of catching evil-doers. 

But now he’d have to return to the police station, yet again having failed. 

Maren always hated the phrase “feeling numb.” Oxymorons could be fun – like everyone’s favorite, jumbo shrimp – but this one always seemed lazy and contrived to her. How could someone feel the antithesis of sensation? It should be described as numbness swallowing sensations, as an empty pit reaching out to fill her whole being, as pure, simple nothingness. 

At least, that was how she usually felt. 

Maren drank from her canteen, despite having rejuvenated her water already. The station was bustling with activity, the only one paying her any mind being Finnegan. After the ambulance arrived, Maren gave quick details to the EMTs, then ran after Finnegan. She helped him quell a breakout in a large holding area, then returned to the reception area. The first ambulances had gone, but more took their places, bearing medical professionals who were overseeing wounded police officers. 

All the while, Maren felt numb. 

Two news stories were circulating through Yoularnon: the raid at the police station and a massive riot in Howin, which was leading to car bombings and fires. The riots had stemmed from a sudden sinkhole in the road. The people had blamed the city and their poor upkeep of both Howin’s streets and tunnels. 

Even if upkeep had been poor, that street wouldn’t have sunk had Mav not blown up the ceiling, which he’d only done at her order. Lord only knew how much he’d beat himself up. It would be exhausting to comfort him. 

Especially now, after she’d gotten Paul killed. 

She didn’t know Paul. In reality, he was just another client. His death didn’t force all strength from her legs, clench her gut, or drive her to scream and wail until her throat was dry. It didn’t even hit her like Mav’s near-death experience, saddened by the possible loss of a genuine steward of mankind. 

But Paul had been a good guy. He’d devoted himself to what he saw as a just cause and, most importantly, was a true friend to JJ. He’d also been under Maren’s protection. She’d abandoned him. 

If it weren’t for her, Paul would be alive. 

“Thank the Flames you’re alright,” a relieved voice said. 

Mav looked wearied: eyes drooping, skin clammy with sweat, and shoulders narrowed. His lips were thin, but his face softened the longer he looked at Maren. She turned away, forcing her breath to be calm. 

“You are okay, right?” Mav asked. 

Maren nodded. 

Please, believe me. Maren’s heart began to hammer in the silence. She could practically feel his gaze on her. He’d find nothing; her injuries weren’t external. 

“Where’s Paul?” Mav asked. 

“He’s...” Maren’s throat clenched. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t clear it. She began walking away. 

Mav’s firm hand gripped her shoulder and spun her around. His dark eyes were no longer wearied; concern Maren couldn’t handle seeing overlay them. 

“Is he alright?” Mav asked. 

Maren closed her eyes and shook her head. She couldn’t deal with this right now! She couldn’t afford to be the strong one, couldn’t handle one of his temper tantrums. She had to leave, before she completely broke down in front of him. 

Maren tried to pry his hand from her shoulder, but it didn’t budge. When she opened her eyes, Mav’s face wasn’t contorted in wrath. Instead, he looked calm, almost peaceful, yet the serene expression was tinged with melancholy. 

“I’m sorry,” Mav whispered. “I should’ve been here to help.” 

Maren’s lips quivered. 

“It’s not your fault,” Mav said, almost a whisper.

Maren took a deep breath. This wasn’t right. Mav shouldn’t have to comfort her. She was their guild’s leader. She needed to act like one, curse it! 

Maren finally cleared her throat. “I... I know. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.” 

“Maren...” 

“I’m fine.” Maren said, clenching Mav’s hand. 

His eyes searched hers, then he gave her shoulder a little squeeze before letting go. “What now?” 

Maren took another breath. “We go to the hospital. The police are too busy to hear our report and... one of Paul’s relatives will have to see his body, to confirm it. We should be there... to explain.” 

Maren didn’t wait for an answer. She walked from the destroyed entrance of the police station, moving from one problem to the next.