I came face-to-face with Noah right then. His green eyes and my gray ones. He looked the exact same as the day we met, down to the black T-shirt and sun-kissed skin. He even appeared worn out, like he hadn’t quite slept or ate enough, and instead of being angry, all I wanted to do was ask him what had happened to him. Tell him I didn’t mean what I had just said. Instead, I glared. 

“Where does this go?” I asked, hoisting up a box. 

He blinked, and I recalled the time I had pushed him into a wall and held a knife to his throat. He had blinked back then, too. Surprised, maybe a little exhilarated. But this time, he didn’t smirk. 

He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “That room.”

I brushed past him, hearing him mumble to Broden as I entered the cramped space, but before I could care about what they discussed, I realized what I was carrying. 

The smaller boxes from the train. The ones carrying weapons.

And the room was full.