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"No."

His voice is quieter than I've ever heard it.

"It knows we're coming."

None of us responds. Because every instinct we possess already knows the same thing. We leave the safety of the cottage together.

Now, we aren't reacting. We're hunting.

And somewhere deep within the Hollow…

Something ancient is waiting to be found.

22

RHETT

OCTOBER 26 ~ 5 DAYS UNTIL HALLOWEEN

The woods don't care about legends. They care about survivors.

By the time we leave the last paved road behind, the sounds of Sleepy Hollow's Halloween festival have faded into little more than distant echoes. A child's laughter. A marching band warming up. The occasional blast of a train whistle drifting through the valley.

Each step deeper into the forest strips another layer of civilization away. Soon all that's left is the crunch of fallen leaves beneath our boots. The whisper of bare branches overhead. And the steady awareness that something is listening.

I raise a hand.

"Stop."

Carys and Sayer halt immediately. Good. They're learning. I crouch near a narrow game trail and study the ground. Nothing obvious. No fresh footprints. No broken branches. But the woods smell…

Wrong. The scent of damp earth and decaying leaves is there, but underneath it lingers something metallic and sharp, like air after a lightning strike.

My wolf notices it too. It's close. Not close enough to attack. Close enough to watch.

"We're not alone," I say quietly.

Carys glances around the trees.

"I figured."

I point toward a cluster of massive oaks.

"If something happens, that's our first fallback point."

She nods, committing it to memory. I point toward a rocky outcropping thirty yards farther east.

"Second fallback."

Sayer follows my hand.

"And if we get separated?"

"You don't improvise."

He doesn't even hesitate.

"I go to the nearest fallback."