The meeting place wasn’t chosen for comfort.
It was chosen for memory.
An old greenhouse that had once been part of Clara’s property—overgrown now, choked with vines and shattered glass, the ceiling barely holding. Orla hadn’t set foot there since the fire that destroyed most of the gardens. The night Leah disappeared. The night Orla broke her own mind trying to erase what had happened.
But the door was unlocked.
Waiting.
She stepped inside alone. No flashlight. No phone.
Just the cold press of her heart against her ribs and the echo of Stanley’s last words before she left.
“If she hurts you, I’ll burn the whole goddamn forest down.”
A part of her had smiled at that. The other part? Terrified.
Because Leah wouldn’t come to hurt her.
Leah would come to destroy what little was left
