(GRIFFIN)
The thought sends a surge of primal terror through me, my hands tightening on the steering wheel until the leather creaks in protest. I force myself to breathe, to focus. Panic won't help Maya now.
The Golden Birch Inn comes into view, its elegant façade nestled among tall pines. I park haphazardly at the entrance, already sniffing the air as I exit the vehicle. Maya's scent is here, recent enough to follow, along with Mathew's and several others I don't recognize.
They lead not into the inn itself, but around the back of the property, toward a service entrance. I follow them, every sense on high alert. The trail continues to a small parking area, then abruptly ends.
They left in another vehicle.
A growl of frustration escapes me as I scan the area, looking for any clue, any hint of where they might have gone. A young man in a service uniform exits the rear door of the inn and is startled when he sees me.
"Can I help you, sir?"
