The mood inside the Anderson Mansion had shifted. The heaviness of grief still hung low in the halls, but something new was building urgency.
"The police have a lead," Steve said, whispering to Mara, eyes scanning the faces of his siblings. "A solid one. They think they've narrowed Philip's location down. Somewhere in North Holt. An abandoned airstrip near the old canning factory."
Everyone went still.
Mara's eyes sharpened instantly. "I'm coming," she said without hesitation, already reaching for her coat.
"Stef—" Stanley began.
"No," she cut in, voice firm. "He has my son. I'm coming."
The brothers exchanged glances. Stefan looked concerned but knew better than to argue with a mother on fire. Stanford simply nodded in silent agreement. They would protect her together.
As they moved quickly toward the cars, Ethan emerged from the corner hallway, having overheard just enough. His heart lurched.
"You're going after him?" he asked, already pulling on his jacket.
