AMAYA

The message came two days later.

It wasn't a text or a letter. It was a small, carved wooden wolf left on the windowsill of our dorm room. I recognized it immediately.

 Tomas used to carve those for me when we were kids, back before our parents died, back before he turned into a monster.

Underneath the wolf was a scrap of paper with a single sentence: The Garden is in the town center. Midnight. I have the keys.

"It's a trap," Alvaro said immediately. He was pacing the living area of the suite, his boots thudding on the rug. "He sold you once. He’ll do it again."

"I...