THE WOODS swallowed them whole.
But Lily didn’t slow down. She couldn’t.
Mary’s phone—Mary’s blood—still burned behind her eyes.
“Lily, wait,” Jeremiah called behind her.
She didn’t.
She pushed deeper into the woods, boots crunching through snow nearly up to her calves. Her legs ached, her lungs felt scraped raw by the cold, but she shoved through a cluster of low branches that clawed at her coat.
Jeremiah’s hand caught her wrist. Not harshly, but firmly enough that she stopped mid-stride and turned back toward him.
His face was half-shadowed by the trees, snow dusting his hair, eyes narrowed with worry and something hotter—something protective enough to scorch through the freezing air.
“You can’t run blind into this,” he said.
“I’m not blind,” Lily shot back, chest heaving. “She
