Elena's POV
The moment Max turned onto Brookline Street, the river glinting dully beside us, my chest tightened.
This was it.
The street looked exactly the same as when I last came here, narrow, concrete worn by too many hard seasons, lampposts leaning slightly like exhausted sentinels.
My uncle's private house looked abandoned from the outside, its windows clouded, its paint faded. But I knew better. Everything about it was deliberate, just a camouflage.
"Let me out here," I murmured.
Max slowed but hesitated. "Are you sure? This area isn't—"
"I'll be fine."
He looked like he wanted to argue, but Thorne's voice crackled in his earpiece:
"If she insists, let her. We keep a perimeter watch."
Max gave a stiff nod. "We're nearby if you need us."
I stepped out.
The air that rolled across my skin was colder, or maybe it was just my nerves.
