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I push the door open.
Warm air hits immediately.
Heavy. Humid.
The scent of flowers is stronger than her shop.
Too strong.
Too controlled.
We step inside.
Rows of plants stretch in every direction.
Perfectly arranged.
Precise.
Manufactured.
“This place is controlled,” Tessa says quietly.
“Stay close to me.”
“I will,” she says.
We move through the rows.
Slow.
Measured.
Every shadow checked.
Every angle cleared.
Something about this place—
It’s wrong.
Then—
A voice.
Calm.
Close.
“I was wondering when you’d figure it out.”
I spin.
Weapon up.
He steps out from behind a row of white flowers.
Clean.
