PROLOGUE

Vanessa Hart squared her shoulders as she faced the imposing edifice of ChemiTech Industries, the company whose negligent waste disposal had turned the nearby Jemison River into a toxic sludge. The crisp mountain air was alive with chants and cries for justice, reverberating off the cold concrete and glass that housed the corporate offices.

"Save our water for our sons and daughters!" The protestors' voices swelled in a chorus of discontent, their signs a patchwork of urgent pleas and accusations waving above their heads. Vanessa could feel the collective heartbeat of the crowd, pulsing with a determination that matched the pounding in her own chest. This wasn't just another rally; it was the culmination of months of tireless advocacy, and Vanessa felt the weight of responsibility on her shoulders. She knew the power of public demonstration, and she was resolved to see justice served.

With the megaphone clutched in her hand like a beacon, Vanessa tapped into the well of her conviction and let her voice ring out, clear and resolute. "We stand here today not as adversaries but as guardians of our future!" Her short blonde hair fluttered with each passionate word, her blue eyes scanning the crowd. She watched as faces lit up with recognition and agreement, their own voices rising to meet hers.

"ChemiTech must be held accountable!" she continued, punctuating each syllable with practiced emphasis. As she spoke, Vanessa moved through the throng, handing out pamphlets filled with data on the river's contamination and ChemiTech's violations. Her interactions were brief but impactful: a touch on the shoulder, a nod of solidarity, all while maintaining a vigilant watch over the company security guards stationed at the perimeter.

The guards, clad in dark uniforms that seemed to absorb the light, stood like sentinels, their eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses but undoubtedly fixed on her. Vanessa's heart hammered against her ribcage, but she gave no outward sign of intimidation. Instead, she exuded a charisma that drew people in, her dedication evident in the steadiness of her voice and the fervor in her gaze .

She approached the edge of the protest, closer to where the guards were posted, and raised the megaphone once more. "Ignore us all you want, but we will make ourselves heard!" The crowd erupted in support, cheering and waving.

The sound of boots on asphalt cut through the chorus of chants like a knife, and heads turned as several of the ChemiTech Industries security guards began to close in on the throng of protesters. Among them, a particularly imposing figure strode forward—a guard whose broad shoulders and height eclipsed that of his companions. His jaw was set in a firm line beneath his cap, shadowing eyes that seemed to appraise every face in the crowd with calculated indifference. The silver badge pinned to his chest glinted menacingly in the dimming light, and the baton at his belt suggested he was prepared for more than just conversation.

Vanessa felt a ripple of apprehension pass through the crowd, but she squared her shoulders and met the approaching giant with a gaze as unyielding as the concrete underfoot.

She stepped away from the megaphone, signaling for quiet with an authoritative hand. "We're here lawfully," Vanessa said, her voice carrying over the murmur of the crowd. "We have a right to make our voices heard."

"Ms. Hart," the guard said, his voice a low rumble, "the company has instructed me to inform you that continued obstruction of business operations will result in legal consequences."

"The only consequences you should be worried about are the consequences of polluting this river," Vanessa answered without missing a beat. "ChemiTech Industries can't wash its hands of that with threats."

A surge of supportive shouts rose behind her, emboldening Vanessa's stance. The guard's eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of frustration seeping into his stony demeanor. He looked momentarily ready to press further, but the unified front of the protesters left him visibly reassessing the situation.

"You'll be sorry for this," he warned. "The people I work for—they don't just turn a blind eye to this sort of thing."

"Good," Vanessa said, emboldened by the crowd. "Because I want them to see us. All of us."

The guard just shook his head at her in disgust as he retreated, returning to his post. It was a small victory, but Vanessa would take what she could get .

As the energy of defiance pulsed through the crowd, Vanessa's attention snagged on an outlier—an inconspicuous figure shrouded in a dull brown hoodie, standing still amidst the sea of motion. No placard in hand, no slogan on their lips, just an unwavering stare fixed on Vanessa. Everything about the person was nondescript: worn jeans, scuffed sneakers, that faded hoodie. This stranger was an anomaly in the charged atmosphere, untouched by the fervor that had everyone else animated.

A knot of unease twisted in Vanessa's stomach, but the voices around her pulled her back into the moment. Now was not the time for distraction. She reclaimed the megaphone, her amplified voice rising above the din. "We stand for the river! We stand for our future!" Her words became the heartbeat of the protest once more, driving the momentum forward as the mysterious observer receded into the background of her mind.

Vanessa's voice soared above the clamor, each chant a rallying cry that reverberated through the ranks of passionate protestors. With the megaphone as her scepter, she directed the tide of dissent like a conductor leading an orchestra of voices against the discordant backdrop of corporate greed. Placards bobbed in a sea of determination, their slogans a visual echo to the chants: "Clean Rivers, Clean Conscience" and "When Nature Cries, We Act!"

"Whose river?" Vanessa asked.

"Our river!" the crowd responded in a unified shout.

Vanessa wove through the throng, microphone in hand, pausing to thank supporters and field questions from the members of the press who had taken note of the event. The protest was more than a demonstration—it was the culmination of countless hours of tireless advocacy, and Vanessa felt the weight of potential change within her grasp.

As the chants continued, she allowed herself a moment to scan the crowd once more. The hooded figure she had seen earlier had vanished.

Probably just someone on the fence or too shy to join in the commotion, she thought.

Probably.

***

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the emptying plaza as the last of the protesters dispersed, their voices now just echoes in Vanessa's mind. She bent down, gathering pamphlets and banners. She felt a fierce pride in the day's achievements. They had stood up to a multi-million dollar corporation, letting them know they wouldn't tolerate the ruination of their river without a fight. They had stood together as a community, voicing their outrage and announcing their intent to fight for what was right.

Suddenly, a chilling breeze swept across the plaza, causing Vanessa to shudder. She zipped up her jacket and resumed her cleaning, her thoughts shifting to the strategies she would need to employ in the days to come. The protest was only the beginning; there were battles yet to be fought before they could claim victory. As she consolidated the pile of placards, her mind was already racing with plans for meetings, awareness campaigns, and more demonstrations.

She was lost in thought when a sudden noise snapped her out of her reverie. A soft rustling behind her. Vanessa turned around, squinting into the dimming light. The plaza was a sea of shadows, disturbed only by the occasional flutter of leftover banners in the wind. Her heart pounded in her chest as she considered calling out, but who would hear? The once thriving protest site had emptied out, leaving only her and…

And whatever was back there.

The noise persisted, a metallic rattling. Swallowing hard, Vanessa turned on her flashlight and approached. "Hello? Is someone there?"

The sound stopped. As Vanessa advanced, an overturned trash can came into view. Vanessa took two more steps…

And then a pair of beady eyes surfaced over the edge of the trash can.

Vanessa gave a startled yelp, and the creature—a raccoon, by the look of it—raced off, disappearing down the bank of the river.

Vanessa breathed a sigh of relief, her heart rate returning to normal. She laughed at her own foolishness. Nothing more than a raccoon rummaging through the trash. This was nature, after all, and she was fighting to protect its very existence.

"Get a grip, Hart," she murmured under her breath, forcing her shoulders to relax from their defensive hunch.

Taking one last look around the desolate site, Vanessa gathered the remaining pamphlets and signs, stacking them neatly in the back of her SUV. Then she closed the back and went around to the driver's door. As she climbed inside, she fumbled the keys and sent them clattering down into the abyss between her seat and the console .

"Now you've done it," she muttered to herself.

Bending over the seat, she plunged her arm into the narrow gap and fumbled around blindly for the keys. Her fingertips grazed the jagged edge of something, then slipped past. She stretched farther, her breath catching as her hand finally closed around the elusive keys.

With a triumphant sigh, Vanessa pulled herself up and slid into the driver's seat, the familiar scent of leather and paper enveloping her. She thrust the key into the ignition and the engine roared to life, a comforting growl that promised a swift retreat from the day's tensions.

It was time to head home, maybe get a glass of wine to help her body relax. Yes, a glass of wine would be just the thing. She had that bottle of rose from the party last week—

As she glanced into the rearview mirror to back out, her heart stopped—there, visible in the faint glow of the overhead light, was the outline of a hooded figure seated behind her. The same figure she'd seen in the crowd.

A scream clawed its way up her throat, raw and primal.

The figure leaned forward, brandishing a cruel knife. "Drive," the figure said. "We're going on a little road trip."