“What else is in there?”
“Laundry facilities.”
“What about service tunnels?”
“Checking now.” More keys clicking. “There’s an old utility passage that isn’t on the current blueprints. Built in the sixties, before the resort expanded. If he found it…”
“He found it.” Of course he did. Damien would have mapped this entire property before he ever set foot on it. “Where does it lead?”
“I’m pulling the original blueprints. Give me five minutes.”
“You have three.”
Each minute—scratch that—second felt like an eternity.
I wasn’t paying attention to the time when Marcus said five minutes, but I was growing impatient.
“Marcus.” I activate again. “Status on those blueprints?”
“Found the passage. It runs beneath the main buildings and exits at three points—the marina, the east garden, and…” He pauses. “The pool maintenance building.”
Dread overcame me. “How far from the pool?”
“Thirty meters. Maybe less.”
“Everyone.” I use the broadcast trigger. “Damien may have underground access to the pool area. Stay alert.”
“Understood,” Elena’s voice comes through. “We have eyes on Poppy. Nothing unusual yet.”
I grip the balcony railing. Every instinct screams at me to move. To leap from this balcony and cross the distance. To stand between Poppy and whatever’s coming.
But I hold.
Because she asked me to trust her. Because she’s stronger than I gave her credit for. Because if I keep treating her like someone who needs protection instead of someone who makes her own choices, I’m no better than Preston—controlling the narrative instead of respecting the person.
“Marcus.” My voice is rough. “If he surfaces anywhere near that pool—”
“You’ll know the second I do.”
The connection times out. I stand at the balcony, watching, waiting, counting heartbeats that aren’t mine.
Poppy’s phone appears in her hand. She’s texting someone—Sage, probably. Then she sets it down. Reaches for her champagne.
And freezes.
I see it happen. The exact moment she senses something wrong. Her shoulders go rigid. Her head turns, scanning.
Then I see him.
Damien. Walking along the path toward the pool bar. Casual. Unhurried. Wearing linen pants and a white shirt like any other wealthy resort guest.
“Everyone.” My voice is steady despite the fear clawing at my chest. “He’s here. East path, approaching the pool bar.”
“We see him.” Sofia’s voice is tight. “Orders?”
I watch Damien pause at the bar. Order something he won’t drink. Scan the area with a laziness that doesn’t fool me for a second.
His eyes find Elena. They move past her. Find Sofia. Move past her, too.
