The air in the woods feels thicker tonight. Lowell moves cautiously, keeping his footsteps silent against the crunch of dried leaves. Every sound seems louder, every shadow a threat. He’s too familiar with this game of cat and mouse, and Marco never plays fair.

But then it hits him.

A scent. Soft at first, like a whisper in the breeze. But it grows stronger, weaving through the air like an invisible thread, wrapping around him, pulling him in.

“What the hell…” Lowell stops dead, his ...