“I don’t know,” I say, and I’m quiet for a few more steps, trying to figure out how to verbalize feelings that I haven’t fully processed myself. “Everything looks and feels so familiar and yet it’s all…just out of my reach. This is my home. I know this place better than anywhere in the world—every porch, the brick sidewalks pushed up by old tree roots, Mr. Martin, who makes the best cakes in all of Connecticut and who’s been the reigning champion at the state fair seven years in a row, and Mrs. Bernstein, who has an antiques store and organizes the farmers’ market on Sundays. The way you can’t park in front of the candy shop for more than an hour, because the owner is the crankiest human alive and will leave you ragey notes. Everything. Emily.” My voice catches on her name and I take a breath. “I’m finally home, something I’ve been dreaming about for weeks, and yet I’m not. My dad’s not here, I can’t talk to anyone, and I need to sneak around quietly without calling attention to myself. When what I really want to do is march right into the town square and get a big cup of hot cocoa with marshmallows from Lucille’s diner.” When I stop speaking, my chest deflates, and I realize how many feelings I’ve been suppressing.

For a split second Ash seems taken aback by the intensity of my emotion for Pembrook, and after a moment of thought he nods. “You’ll be able to come back here,” he says in a reassuring voice.

I want so badly to believe him. “Will I, though?”

“Yes. We’ll find your father and do what we need to in order to stop the Lions from hunting you—even if it means we need to take out the whole group of them.” His tone is definite.

I know that what he’s saying is highly improbable, but I also know he’s reassuring me out of kindness. And I need a little kindness more than I need harsh reality right now. I sigh. “Just take out the most powerful Strategia Family. Sounds like a breeze.”

“See? You’re getting into the spirit alr—” Ash stops short, and I instantly know why.

“Tires on dirt?” I whisper, and turn toward the noise. “From where we are…” I examine the trees around me and my stomach bottoms out. “Oh god, it’s coming from my driveway. There’s nothing else close enough.” I point. “I live just through the trees at the top of that hill.”

My heart races and my mind spins, searching for possibilities of who it might be. For a fleeting moment, I get my hopes up that maybe it’s my dad returning home to tell me this whole nightmare is over and that I never have to think about it again.