"How much farther?" Irene asked, her voice tinged with exhaustion. She leaned against the car door, her head resting on the cool glass as the scenery blurred past. "Everyone's going to be out of school soon, and Jericho's going to realize I'm not home." Worry flickered in her tone, though she tried to mask it.

"We're not far," Madeline replied, her tone even and calm, as if Irene's anxiety couldn't touch her. "And if Jericho asks, just tell him you're fine. You don’t need to overcomplicate things."

Irene glanced at her, skepticism creeping into her tired eyes. "Yeah, because that will go over well," she muttered.

Madeline's lips quirked in a small, knowing smile. "He’ll believe you. Jericho's stubborn, but he trusts you more than you think."

Irene sighed, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. The silence between them stretched for a moment before she broke it. "Who is this Allister guy?" she asked, her curiosity bubbling to the surface. "And why is he targeting me?"

Madeline's grip on the steering wheel tightened, though her expression remained carefully composed. "You're like a box full of questions, you know that?" she said, her voice light but edged with a hint of weariness.

"Yeah, well, can you blame me?" Irene shot back, raising an eyebrow. "Someone’s hunting me down, and you’re the one driving me across god-knows-where without much of an explanation."

Madeline exhaled sharply through her nose, a sound somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. "Fair enough," she conceded. "Allister... he's an old friend. Or, at least, he used to be."

Irene frowned, sitting up straighter. "He doesn’t seem like much of a friend now."

Madeline’s smile faded, replaced by a shadow of something that looked almost like regret. "No," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not anymore."

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The weight of her words hung in the air, unspoken stories threading between them. Irene stared at her for a moment, wondering how much of Madeline's past she would ever truly understand—and how much was better left buried. The car came to a slow stop, gravel crunching beneath the tires as they pulled up in front of a forest Irene recognized all too well. Her stomach tightened, unease creeping up her spine as she stared into the dark expanse of trees. The shadows stretched long and deep, and the air seemed heavier here, like the forest was holding its breath.

Madeline stepped out first, her movements smooth and purposeful as she adjusted her coat. "Come on," she said over her shoulder, but Irene stayed rooted in her seat, her hands gripping the edge of the door.

"I don’t want to go in there," Irene said, her voice quieter than she intended. It carried a tremor she couldn’t quite hide. She hated how small she sounded, like the frightened child she used to be when her nightmares felt all too real.

Madeline paused, turning to face her. The soft glow of the car’s interior light caught the sharp angles of her face, her expression unreadable. "Irene," she said, her voice low and steady, "you’ll be fine."

"How do you know that?" Irene shot back, her unease tipping into frustration. "You always act like you have all the answers, but what if you’re wrong? What if something happens?"

Madeline’s gaze softened, though her voice remained firm. "Because I know these woods. Better than anyone. And you’re not alone—you’ve got me." She leaned down, her eyes locking with Irene's. "Do you trust me?"

Irene hesitated, her grip on the door tightening. Did she trust her? Madeline was infuriatingly cryptic, always withholding just enough to keep Irene guessing. But she had also been there when no one else was, a strange and steady constant in Irene’s unraveling world.

Finally, Irene sighed and pushed the door open. The chill of the evening air hit her immediately, and she pulled her jacket tighter around herself. "Fine," she muttered as she climbed out, her reluctance plain in every movement.

Madeline smiled faintly, a rare flicker of warmth breaking through her usual composure. "Good," she said, walking toward the forest’s edge. "Stay close to me."

As they stepped into the woods, the trees seemed to close in around them, their towering forms casting long, jagged shadows. Irene glanced over at Madeline, who moved with an ease that seemed almost unnatural, like she belonged here in a way Irene never could.

For all her reluctance, Irene found herself sticking close to Madeline, her presence a fragile tether in the oppressive darkness.