The forest behind the greenhouse wasn't familiar. It wasn't even mapped.
Aria hadn't expected to be running for her life at midnight, branches clawing at her skin, breath burning in her throat. Xander gripped her hand like it was the only tether he had to reality, yanking her behind him as shouts echoed behind them.
More than one voice. Male.
Not police.
Not friends.
"Keep low," he whispered, ducking behind a moss-covered fallen tree. "They haven't split up yet. If we can get down to the creek, we'll lose them."
Aria nodded, heart hammering so loud she thought it might give them away.
She crouched, forcing her feet to move despite the tremble in her legs. Her phone was back in the greenhouse—useless. No flashlight, no GPS. Just instinct and fear.
They moved through the underbrush like shadows. A snap of a twig made her flinch. A beam of light cut through the trees, far off but sweeping toward them.
"Split up!" someone shouted. "They went east!"
Xander pulled her to a crouch. His breath puffed white in the cold air. "We need to move. Now."
They darted through a thicket, thorns tearing at Aria's jeans. The creek came into view like salvation—just as another voice barked from behind.
"There!"
They didn't stop.
Aria plunged into the freezing water, her shoes sinking into the mud. Xander was behind her, his arm at her waist, pushing her forward. The water numbed her legs immediately, but it masked their steps. Covered their scent.
They followed the current downstream until her limbs ached, until the voices faded behind them.
Then—finally—silence.
They emerged from the creek at the edge of a crumbling trail. An old sign leaned against a tree.
"Briar Hollow Asylum – Condemned."
Aria read it twice, eyes widening.
"Here?" she whispered.
Xander's face was pale in the moonlight. "It's where she hid the first time."
Amara.
Of course.
Where else do ghosts return but to the places that buried them?