Harper's sleek bck car pulled up outside Maze's grungy apartment building, its tinted windows reflecting the hazy glow of a nearby streetmp. The area was lively with the muffled hum of music spilling from a few open windows and the occasional bark of a dog in the distance. Maze, sitting stiffly in the passenger seat, gnced out the window and then turned to Harper, her expression wary.

  "How the hell do you even know where I live?" Maze demanded, crossing her arms as she sized up the aloof woman beside her.

  Harper, utterly unfazed, reached into the console and casually pulled out her phone. With a few swipes, she turned the screen toward Maze, dispying the blinking dot of a tracking app. Maze squinted and immediately recognized Ivy’s name next to the beacon.

  "It wasn’t hard to figure out," Harper said dryly, her tone bordering on bored. "Ivy stayed here for hours before the mall. Where else could she have gone with you? I had to make sure she was safe, didn’t I?"

  Maze gawked at her. "You’re kidding, right? You tracked her? You’re not just controlling; you’re certifiable."

  Harper rolled her eyes and locked the phone, slipping it back into the console. "Twenty minutes," she said coolly. "Go upstairs, grab whatever you need for a road trip, and be quick about it. We’re stopping by my pce to pack after this."

  Maze stared at her for a moment, trying to decide whether she should argue or just accept that Harper's intensity wasn’t something she could fight against. With a frustrated huff, she shoved open the car door and stepped out, smming it shut behind her.

  The building itself was an old brick structure, its facade worn but brimming with character. Maze jogged up the concrete steps, her combat boots echoing in the stairwell as she ascended to the third floor and then took the lift to the 25th floor, trying to buy herself sometime to think. Once inside, Maze grabbed a bck duffle bag from her closet and started stuffing it with clothes—ripped jeans, oversized band tees, and a couple of jackets that could double as bnkets in case Harper decided to camp out in her obsessive pursuit of Ivy. She tossed in essentials: her toothbrush, phone charger, some makeup, and a pocketknife she liked to keep handy.

  As she zipped the bag, she caught her reflection in the cracked mirror hanging on the back of her closet door. Her wolf-cut hair was slightly mussed from the day’s chaos, and her gsses were askew on her nose. With a self-deprecating chuckle, she adjusted them and muttered, "What am I even doing?"