I couldn't be sure. All I had seen were broken flashes. Stone walls. Cold air. A room with no windows. The last clue Esmee left behind was vague, tied to a place that fixed cars. That thin thread was all I had.
Small or not, it was enough to pull me forward.
"So you think this might be the place," Lewis said, calm but sharp, "but you're not certain."
I nodded. "I'm not. But something feels wrong here. Like there's more beneath it. A hidden level. Somewhere people don't go."
He studied me in silence. The air between us tightened. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. "Why underground?"
The question made my pulse jump. His gaze felt too steady, like he was testing my scent, listening past my words.
For a heartbeat, I almost told him everything. That I remembered dying. That I'd wandered in the dark before waking up again. That my instincts weren't just fear, but memory.
But I wasn't ready. Not yet.
