Helena's POV
The weathered sign of Shadowcrest Diner barely glows in the predawn darkness. Patrick cuts the SUV engine a full block from our destination, letting the headlights sweep across the vacant lot one final time before plunging us into shadow. Empty streets stretch in every direction, and the metallic scent of blood drifts on the morning breeze. When I meet Patrick's gaze, my mouth forms a tight line of disapproval. This plan feels like walking into our graves.
Asher's mark pulses against my throat like a drumbeat of danger. My palm presses hard against the spot, desperate to silence the warning that courses through my veins. Beside me, Patrick's skin breaks out in goosebumps despite the warm air.
"Keep close behind me," he orders in a low voice.
