SERAPHINA’S POV
The trees thinned until the forest gave way to a narrow stretch of coastal grassland, where the earth sloped toward the distant sound of waves.
The scent of salt hung in the air, sharp and clean, carried inland by a steady breeze that tugged lightly at my hair as I stepped out from beneath the shadow of the pines.
Catherine was already there.
She stood near the center of the clearing, her posture relaxed—one hand resting loosely at her side, the other holding a slim phone.
From a distance, she might have been mistaken for a woman enjoying the cool evening air rather than the architect of the nightmare that had drawn us here.
Even as I approached, she watched with quiet amusement, her gaze sweeping over me in slow appraisal, as if observing a particularly interesting specimen.
Unlike me, she looked entirely at ease.
Every instinct inside me remained alert, every sense sharpened by the knowledge that danger surrounded this woman like an invisible force field.
