If you’re searching for books like Yellowjackets, the closest match is not a wilderness copy. It is something colder, more elegant, and harder to place: a story where the evidence sings back.
Cassie Hour fits that space. It carries the same fracture of female pressure, the same sense that a secret has survived longer than the people who made it, but moves the danger into a Marbella villa where every room seems to have heard something it should not repeat. A missing recording. A chorus that returns at the wrong hour. Witnesses who may be lying, or simply protecting what the house already knows.
That is the distinctive pull here: the mystery is not only who vanished, but what was captured before they did. The song matters because it behaves like a document. The novel matters because it treats atmosphere as evidence. Together, they create a cinematic, dual-timeline unease that feels intimate rather than noisy—more whispered after midnight than shouted over a cliff edge.
For readers drawn to the rivalry, the ache, and the sense that memory itself is unreliable, Cassie Hour (opens in a new tab) offers a different kind of aftermath. The villa keeps its own hours. The recording does not stay lost. And the chorus, once heard, is difficult to forget.
If your search began with Yellowjackets, this is the book to read first.