Someone messing up with them

The van pulled to a stop on a bumpy dirt road, trees parting just far enough to reveal a hidden patch of heaven—tender green grass sweeping out toward a glinting lake, wildflowers tossed like someone had set them there by hand. The wind was gentle, the kind that should have been soothing.

It wasn't.

To Rose.

Her hands had curled around the armrest of the seat as the engine shut down. Everything seemed okay. Too okay. That plastic so nice that something is wrong but you can't quite put your finger on it. Like hospital flowers. Beautiful and vibrant, but with the hush of fear that hung around them.

Zara jumped in first, already chattering a mile a minute about how it was going to be the best day of their lives, how the snacks were "chef's kiss," and how she better get adorbs photos of everyone.