The location is wrong.
I know it the second we turn off the main road.
Not because it’s isolated.
Not because it’s quiet.
Because it’scontrolled.
Every angle feels intentional. The trees are too evenly spaced. The path too clear, like it’s been used—but not recently. Not naturally.
Prepared.
I slow slightly, scanning the perimeter again.
Nothing moves.
Nothing breathes.
Nothing exists that shouldn’t.
And that—
That’s the problem.
“He chose this,” I say quietly.
Walking beside me, Logan doesn’t break stride.
“Yeah.”
No question.
No doubt.
“He’s been here before.”
Logan’s gaze shifts slightly, tracking the tree line.
“Multiple times.”
Yes.
I feel it.
This isn’t a drop point.
This isn’t temporary.
This is his.
My pulse stays steady, but my awareness sharpens, every sense pulling outward, stretching, searching for the break in the pattern.
There’s always a break.
Always.
“You see it yet?” Logan asks.
