“Then we leave,” Ash replies, and I wonder how I’ll ever make it through the night knowing that there might be something from my dad waiting for me in the woods.

Chapter Eight

I STARE OUT the window at the pile of white roses on my front porch, careful to stay crouched down and keep my face to the side of the curtain in case my house is being watched. There are little notes attached to the rose stems with purple satin ribbon, and I don’t even attempt to swallow back the lump in my throat.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper to Emily’s flowers.

Ash went to bed hours ago and I know that’s where I should be, too. It’s well after midnight and we need all the sleep we can get before our sunrise mission, especially after our previous night of sedatives and travel. But I can’t seem to drag myself away from this window. These past few days I’ve been twisted with worry and fear over where my dad is and what kind of danger he’s in. And all I can think is that Emily has been going through the same distress over me for weeks.

What if this is the last time I ever see Pembrook—what if this is the last time I ever see her? If I die in Europe, Emily will be left to forever wonder where I went. Her best friend will have just disappeared into thin air.

“Promise me something,” Emily says, her hair getting caught in her lip gloss in the warm summer breeze.

“Anything,” I say, perching on the fence separating Ben’s house from his family’s back field, the air thick with humidity and the woods buzzing with crickets.

“Don’t say ‘anything’ when you don’t know what I’m going to ask,” Emily says, leaning against the fence post.

“Most people would be delighted by that answer,” I say, flashing her a big grin. “You could make me promise to kiss one of Ben’s cows or streak through the center of town.”

She gives me a look like I’m the most ridiculous person she’s ever met, a routine we play out so often that the Marco Polo–ness of it is comforting. “By ‘most people,’ you mean you.”

I swat the back of my neck, where I’m pretty sure a mosquito just bit me. “I most certainly do.”

“I’m serious,” she says, and gives me a warning look.

“Okay, tell me,” I say instead of instigating her further, because there is something uncertain in her tone, and Emily’s never uncertain, even when she’s wrong.