Chapter 2

Detecting my sudden stiffness, the woman posing as Lyra grew tense. She reached out, grasping my upper arms.

"What’s wrong, Alana?"

"Is the stress getting to you? Did your old illness flare up again?"

Looking at the genuine worry swimming in her eyes, I forced myself to take a slow, trembling breath.

My parents and Lyra’s parents had been partners on the force. They were tortured and killed by drug traffickers during a botched raid. After that, I suffered from severe PTSD and violent night terrors.

I only survived because of Lyra. She was my rock, helping me piece my shattered mind back together, step by step.

Only Lyra knew about my mental health struggles. No one else.

Moreover, I had Lyra’s face permanently engraved in my mind. The woman standing before me looked exactly like her. Even the tiny, elegant beauty mark just below the left corner of her lips was identical in shape and placement.

Maybe she was just overwhelmed by the adrenaline of finishing the mission, I reasoned frantically. Maybe she forgot our childhood pact in the heat of the moment.

To test her, I swallowed hard and forced a weak smile. "I’m fine. It’s just... when you mentioned the tree, I felt a stab of guilt."

"During the months you went dark, some cartel remnants burned our old house down. I was so caught up in preparing my own undercover prep that I didn't get there in time. The maple tree... it burned to the ground."

Her eyes went wide with shock and horror. "Burned down? But our parents' ashes were buried right beneath it! Alana, tell me you saved the urns! Did you get them out?"

The urns. The burial.

That was an incredibly private detail. Aside from Lyra and me, not a single soul on Earth knew about it.

My racing heart finally began to calm. Relief flooded my veins. I was just about to laugh and admit I was testing her, when she rubbed her red, teary eyes.

"I guess we’ll never get to watch the leaves turn red on that old maple tree again," she murmured softly.

"But Alana, don't carry that guilt. We destroyed the cartel. We got justice for our parents. Their souls can finally rest in peace."

The words I was about to say died instantly in my throat, choking me like a swallow of hot lead.

She had said it again. *Maple tree.*

If she had simply forgotten the pact the first time, there was absolutely no way she would miss it a second time.

That was a blood oath we took the night before we walked into the academy. She was the one who named it the Tree of Vengeance. She wanted it to be a constant, painful reminder of why we were fighting, so we would never falter, no matter how terrifying the cartel got.

"The maple tree" was branded into our very souls.

"Yeah, Lyra," I forced the name out, my voice steady despite the screaming in my head. "They would definitely be proud of us."

"We got revenge, and we finished the job. This is the best birthday gift you could have asked for."

I took a subtle step back, creating space between us, and pulled out the gift I’d brought. It was a beautiful, custom-made snow globe. Inside were six miniature clay figurines—four adults and two little girls—happily gathered around a Thanksgiving dinner table. It was my fondest childhood memory of our families together.

But as I handed it over, my fingers "slipped."

The glass ball crashed onto the hard airport floor, shattering into a million glittering shards.

"Oh my god!" I gasped, clapping a hand over my mouth. "I’m so sorry, Lyra! I’ll get you another one made, I swear."

She smiled warmly, brushing it off. "It’s fine, sweetie. You can get me a replacement once we land back in the States."

"No, I want to get it right," I insisted. "The custom shop is just a few blocks from here, and they can rush a new one by tonight. Let's push our flight to tomorrow morning."

I needed to stay. I needed to find my real best friend.

Dead or alive, I was going to find her today.

***