Chapter 11 · Elias's Dead House

The address on the back of the tag leads to a house that looks like it's been dying for years. Peeling paint. Boarded windows. A chain-link fence half swallowed by blackberry vines. The kind of place the city pretends doesn't exist until someone gets stabbed in the yard.

I'm standing on the sidewalk with Nina's photo evidence burning a hole in my jacket pocket. The tag said SACRIFICE, MARA QUINN. Elias's old address on the front. I should've brought Nina. I should've brought anyone. But if Elias lied about knowing my sister, I want to hear him say it to my face before I decide what to do with the rest of his.

The fence gate is unlocked. That's the first bad sign.

I push through and the hinges don't even squeak. Someone oiled them. Recently. The walkway to the front door is cracked concrete and dead weeds, but there's a trail through the mess. Fresh boot prints in the dirt. Size eleven, maybe twelve. Elias wore boots the night I opened the hotel door.