Liam unlocked his SUV with a sharp beep, and we threw ourselves inside, slamming the doors against the howling wind.

He started the engine, the heater immediately blasting cold air that slowly turned warm against my shivering skin.

I tried calling Detective Maren Holt’s number, my fingers slipping on the wet glass of my phone.

It rang three times before going straight to voicemail.

“Maren, it’s Audrey,” I said into the speaker, my voice cracking with panic. “Chloe called me. She’s at the abandoned charity hall on Seventh Street. Beatrice is after her. Please, get there.”

I ended the call and stared out the passenger window as Liam put the car in drive and accelerated into the dark.

The city lights blurred into long, bleeding streaks of yellow and red against the rain-streaked glass.

“How did Chloe end up there?” Liam asked, his hands gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.

“It’s where everything started,” I said, looking down at the faint, silver scars on the backs of my hands. “Beatrice wants to finish it where it began.”