Jackson trudged toward the stone steps, boots squelching in the mud.
He wasn’t sure this was the right way—but it was the only lead he had. There was no time for second-guessing.
Then, faintly through the roar of rain, he heard it—
A woman’s voice.
He froze, straining his ears. Nothing followed. Only the endless drumming of the downpour.
Still, he was certain. He had heard someone—a woman. And it could only be Lily.
Without another thought, Jackson turned and sprinted toward the forest.
Last time, he’d promised himself he would never enter the woods during a storm.
But promises meant nothing now. Not when someone’s life was at stake.
“Lily!” he shouted. His voice vanished into the storm.
No answer.
Yet something—some strange instinct—urged him forward. Jackson followed the brook
