I didn't expect to see a cemetery on an island like this.
The rows of tombstones hit me so hard my heart stumbled. For a second, my knees went weak. Then I forced myself to breathe. If this place meant nothing, Yael wouldn't have dragged me here at dawn like it was some kind of ritual.
I swallowed my fear and stepped forward.
Dead people weren't the real danger.
Living ones were.
And the one standing beside me was proof.
The air smelled like salt and wet stone. My skin still felt too smooth, too new, like it didn't belong to me. The spray bottle in my hand felt heavy, like a leash disguised as help.
I walked between the graves, reading names in silence.
Most of them were Blackwells.
Or tied to the Blackwells.
So this wasn't some old public cemetery. This was theirs. A private burial ground, tucked away where no one would disturb it.
