CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Pine needles crunch under my boots as I peer through the thickening twilight. The mountain looms overhead, its slopes shrouded in mystery and the unknown. Henry's breaths come out in short puffs, his frustration rolling off him like the mist that clings to the low branches. Logan stands a few feet ahead, his gaze fixed on the daunting ascent, his brown hair a dark shadow against the dimming sky.
"Maybe we should turn back," Henry suggests, his voice laced with defeat. His blue eyes flicker to me, searching for agreement or dissent. "We've been at this for hours, Mia. It's like finding a needle in a haystack."
My heart tugs at his words, at the vulnerability behind them. Henry, who was once so strong, so sure of his place in the world, now stripped of his ability to
