Move,” Dante barked from behind, his voice clipped and cold. “We don’t have all day.”

Annabelle wanted to whirl around and tell him to go to hell, but her grip on Cathy tightened instead.

Her sister’s small, warm presence was the only thing grounding her in this madness.

Despite her fear, confusion, and the pounding ache of exhaustion, Annabelle couldn’t let go of one crucial truth. Cathy was alive.

She glanced down at Cathy’s pale, tear-streaked face. “It’s okay, baby,” she whispered, pressing her lips to the crown of her sister’s head. “We’re okay. We’ll get through this.”

“Not if you don’t keep walking,” Dante snapped again, shining his flashlight...