“It is dangerous,” I reply, turning so I can face Sarah. “And I don’t want you to go.”

“That’s more like it.”

She takes my hand, lacing her fingers through mine. With my other hand, I run my fingers through her hair, eventually letting them rest gently on the back of her neck. I pull her in a little closer.

“But it’s no more dangerous than staying here with me,” I finish.

“That’s the overprotective John I know and love,” she replies.

“I’m not—” I start to protest, but cut myself off when I see her teasing smile.

“These good-byes never get any easier, do they?”

I shake my head. “No. They really don’t.”

We fall silent, holding tight to each other, watching the minutes on the dashboard clock slowly blink away.

Back at the textile factory, we didn’t need to have a huge discussion about Sarah going to find Mark James. Everyone seemed to agree that it was the right thing to do. If Mark really had managed to acquire some crucial information on the Mogadorians, and if he was risking his life to help us, then we needed to return the favor. But the rest of the Garde was still missing. And Adam’s plan to strike the Mogadorian stronghold in D.C. seemed more and more like the smartest play, a necessary strike to gather intelligence and show those bastards that we were still in this fight. There’s too much happening for us to put all our resources into catching up with Mark.

Sarah made it easy by volunteering.

Of course, sending her off alone on a potentially dangerous mission involving an ex-boyfriend isn’t exactly my favorite idea. But I can’t shake the feeling that the grim future I saw in Ella’s dream is racing towards us. We need all the help we can get. If there’s even the tiniest possibility that sending Sarah to Alabama could help us win this war, it’s a chance we have to take, my own selfish feelings be damned.

And anyway, she won’t be totally alone on the trip.

In the backseat, Bernie Kosar stands with his paws braced against the closed window, tail wagging furiously as he watches all the people zipping in and out of the bus station. My old friend seemed pretty wiped out after the battle in Chicago, but some of his energy came back when we got on the road. Once, in Paradise, he’d been my protector. Now he will do the same for Sarah.

“I don’t want you to think of me as your girlfriend right now,” Sarah says out of the blue, totally composed.

I lean back a bit, squinting at her. “That’s going to be hard for me.”

“I want you to think of me as a soldier,” she persists. “A soldier in this war who’s doing what needs to be done. I don’t know exactly what I’ll find down south, but I have this weird feeling that I’ll be able to help you better from there. At the very least, when it comes to battles, I won’t be around to slow you down.”