Sienna flopped down on the bed and pulled the pillow over her face, determined to find some semblance of peace and quiet. Jace had finally—and reluctantly—left after she’d managed to eat half of the giant burger Chico had made. He’d made stern noises at her about looking after herself better, and not going anywhere by herself. She’d half listened, promised him she wouldn’t go wandering off a cliff anytime soon, and then gone back to work. That had lasted about five seconds before Chico reminded her that she was supposed to taking the rest of the day off, shooing her out the door the same way she’d sent Jace. Her body was still twinging with the aftereffects of the headache and when she’d nearly dropped another plate, he’d told her to come back tomorrow. Preferably after she’d slept for about twelve hours.

God, if only she could. If she could hide from the world for just one night. Hadn’t she earned that after the past few days? She tossed in bed. Her dreams hadn’t exactly been peaceful lately, either. And then there was whatever had happened with that damn cliff. Sienna couldn’t get it out her mind. Had she just been careless, a little tipsy and too busy chasing after a butterfly to notice the edge, or was there more to it than that? And then there was whatever the hell had happened with the other car. There wasn’t going to be any sleeping off that.

She closed her eyes, but her thoughts kept drifting back to her mom. Had she been special in some way, too? Maybe she’d known more than she’d ever told Sienna. Thinking back after what had happened since her mom’s murder, a lot of things suddenly made a hell of a lot more sense. Things from her childhood that had seemed like innocent games at the time were suddenly more. Much more. The other girls were different. There had been no talk of family secrets and fake papers when she’d met them at the creepy house. They’d all been blindsided by the situation; completely caught off guard by their psychic awakenings. Sienna had, too. But she shouldn’t have been.

“Damn it!” She launched her pillow at the TV. Damn her mother for keeping all this from her. Maggie had known. She had to have, and yet she’d hidden it all of Sienna’s life. And there was no way Sienna was going to sleep a wink until she knew why. The only way she was going to figure that out was to go home.

Home. Even the idea of setting foot in that house made her shake all over again. But she had no choice. They’d lived there for a long time, longer than any other house in her childhood. Her mom had stashed her real birth records in the mattress. God only knew what else was hidden in that house.

She threw back the cover and yanked on a pair of jeans, giving the phone one guilty glance before pushing it out of her mind. There was no way she was calling Jace. There was no way he’d let her get behind the wheel in her current state. It didn’t matter; she had to do this. Chances were it was going to get her killed, but it was a risk she was going to have to take to finally know what the hell was going on. Before she could talk herself out of it, Sienna snatched up her keys and left the room.

It wasn’t until she was clear across the county that what she’d done finally sunk in. She would be out on the road at night, again. Alone. She gripped the wheel so tightly her knuckles grew white, and yet she pushed down on the accelerator. Whoever had killed her mom, whoever was hunting her . . . the car chasing her that night hadn’t been a coincidence. They’d found her, and she had to figure out just who the hell they were before they came back.

As she barreled down the highway, her mind drifted back to the others. They seemed to be just as much in the dark as she was, almost. The only thing they knew that she hadn’t was the identity of the person in charge, and even then it was only a face. Sienna’s face. Even just the idea made her shudder. Was she seriously going to align herself with a group of people she’d only just met? They hadn’t tried to kill her, and so they had that going for them. Maybe there was something to this whole safety-in-numbers thing. Even if it turned out Sienna’s battle wasn’t the same as theirs, it couldn’t hurt to have a few more people on her side.

Jace was.

No. Sienna shook her head. He could push all he liked; she wasn’t putting him in the middle of this. The other women may well be completely insane, but at least they knew what they were dealing with. They’d willingly put themselves in the line of fire already. She couldn’t ask anyone to do that just for her. She wouldn’t. No matter how well they kissed. Arrrgh! Did he have to be so damn insistent?

She forced her mind away from thoughts of Jace and his ridiculously hot smile. The highway seemed endless, each building and outcropping more of the same. Finally, after several hours, the landscape changed to something more familiar. Sienna’s car snaked through the top of the hills and she got her first glimpse of the city below. She’d felt so out of place at the truck stop that she should feel comforted seeing her old haunts, but instead all she could feel was her anxiety rising. She shouldn’t be there. Last time, it had just felt like fleeing a bad situation. Now, driving down the streets where she grew up, it felt like she was entering a death trap. The air was thick, choking her, and full of the smog that made up the city’s center.

She arrived at her house far too quickly. The grass was almost a foot high, and her mother’s prized flowers in the front yard were wilting. A living room light that she didn’t remember leaving on was shining dimly in the daylight, but the house was quiet. She walked up to the front door and then froze. Her hands were shaking badly and her head spun to the point she thought she was going to keel over on the doorstep. Her breath sawed in and out of her lungs. Could she go back in there, face where it had happened? Flashes of her mom’s death still haunted her daily. Would going inside just make it even worse?

No.

She was done running. She needed answers and the only place she was going to get them was inside that house. She just had to force her feet to take the first step. She placed her hand on the doorknob. It turned easily under her fingers, no key needed. The air was electric, rubbing her raw. Had the police come and gone in her absence? Would they have forgotten to lock the front door? She paused again, but the house sat silently. Not even the creek of a floorboard. Taking a deep breath, Sienna pushed the door open and stepped inside. Within two steps, her shoes crunched on something lying on the floor. Oh, God. The glass was still there. Beyond that, a lone marker flag pinpointed the spot that her mother’s body had fallen to the floor. Sienna’s hand flew to her mouth as the tears flowed.

After several moments, she started moving carefully through the room, desperately trying to ignore the fact that she stood less than twenty feet from where her mother had died. She half stumbled into the kitchen, sat down at the dusty table, and just let the tears fall.

How many times had she sat at this table, playing with her dolls and coloring with crayons? How many times had she run past that exact spot in the living room, racing down the stairs? How could it possibly have been the place where her mom had died? As far as Sienna knew, her mom hadn’t an enemy in the world. She was firm but fair, and most of their neighbors thought she was a saint. Now, she was dead. But what was it that they’d wanted? Had they found it, or was it still here?

She stood slowly and walked outside. Inside the house was suffocating, but out here, Sienna could breathe a little better. It was strange, seeing her mom’s hard work brown and wilted. They’d planted the garden together at first, when she’d been a little girl. Her mom would dig the hole and then Sienna would drop in the seeds, pinching them between her small, chubby fingers. She even had a tiny pink spade to cover them up with.

Some of her mom’s favorite flowers remained: purple ones with black centers that Sienna could never remember the name of. Should she get some and leave them on her grave? Did her mom even have a grave? What would the authorities have done with her mom’s body when no one came forward to claim it? Her mother had deserved a proper funeral, but that was just one more area that Sienna had failed in. At least she could still honor her mom privately. She picked the last of the flowers and carried them inside, laying them on the floor where her mom’s body had been. She stood, staring at the spot for a few minutes more. “Goodbye, Mom,” she whispered. Then she turned and trudged up the stairs. It was time to get to saving her own ass.

Where would her mom have hidden things? Sienna had already been through the closets, the kitchen, and her mom’s chest of drawers before leaving the first time. The mattress was completely shredded and she was pretty sure there was nothing hiding inside her own. Maybe it would be easier to figure out if she was surrounded by her mom’s things? She went into her mom’s room and ran her fingers through the clothes still hanging in the closet. A slight hint of her mom’s scent was still there, a mixture of fragrant soap and perfume that never lingered long enough. It was there for a moment when the clothes shifted, and then gone again the moment she took another step forward.

She had to pull herself together before she lost it again. Where to start looking? If her mom had wanted Sienna to eventually find whatever it was—and from memories of childhood conversations it was seeming likely she had—then she would have hidden it somewhere Sienna would think to look. But she’d already turned the house upside down the last time, and come up empty, except for the stash in the mattress. That, Sienna wasn’t sure her mom had intended her to uncover. But where? There was a pile of old clothing on the floor of her mom’s closest and Sienna pushed it aside, trying to lift up the carpet. Nothing—it wouldn’t budge. Neither was there any hint of a repair or modification done to any of the walls in her mom’s room. She trailed back downstairs, running her fingers along the walls, desperately looking for any kind of catch or groove that might open something, but there was nothing.

What about the pantry? Right on the top shelf there’d been an old tin where Maggie had hidden her chocolate stash from a young Sienna. As she’d grown, she’d become a master at climbing the shelves like a tree when her mom wasn’t looking. It wouldn’t mean much to anyone else, but it was a spot her mom had used for years for special treats, even after Sienna was tall enough to reach it. She ran into the kitchen, pulling down the old tin—empty. She looked up, her gaze falling on the recessed door to the cupboard under the stairs. Originally built as extra storage, Sienna had claimed it as her own when they’d moved in. She’d played in there for hours, and her mom would often join her, reading together or just talking. Sienna had even dragged blankets and a pillow down there so she could hide from thunderstorms at night. They called it her place, because she felt truly safe there.

Safe.

After pulling open the door, Sienna crawled into the space. It was a lot smaller than she remembered, but the feeling of security hadn’t moved on. She searched through the items stored in the space, and when that turned up nothing, started tapping along the wall. Halfway along, the sound changed, a dull thump replacing the rap-rap-rap. There was something there! She ran her fingers across the wainscoting until she found a strip that gave way ever so slightly under her fingers’ pressure. There was a quiet snick and a panel fell open just enough to get her fingers in and unlatch whatever was holding it from swinging entirely open. The door fell open and Sienna’s eyes widened, her jaw slack. Boxes filled the space, dusty and torn, with yellowed, aged paper sticking out of a few. On top of everything was a set of manila folders, covered in dust so thick and some type of oily residue that she couldn’t read the writing on the label.

She pulled over a tiny chair that she’d left in the space and opened the first folder. Her tears dripped off her cheeks and fell onto the aged paper, wetting it before she realized she was crying. She swiped at her eyes, trying to clear her vision, but she couldn’t make it past the first line.

Just remember, no matter what, I love you.