ALEXANDER
I don’t waste any more time. After realizing that Emmaline could be with Dante, everything that follows is just logistics — the mechanical process of converting certainty into action. I tell Enzo to send for the sisterhood before he’s finished processing the word.
The witches who came before were trackers, readers, women skilled in finding. The sisterhood is something else.
They are older. More precise.
The kind of power you call when the ordinary options have already failed you.
They arrive by morning.
Three women, robed, unhurried, carrying the particular authority of those who have never needed to announce themselves.
“We can’t confirm she’s there from here,” the eldest says, before I’ve finished explaining. Her eyes are steady, the color of storm water. “We’d need to g
