Salty.
And water.
He filed it away.
The phone rang, sharp and sudden in the quiet cabin.
Eliza startled awake, breath hitching, shoulders tensing as her eyes snapped open.Kol cursed himself silently and answered immediately, lowering his voice.
“Petrov.”
“You must be close?”Elias asked.
Kol glanced at Eliza, who was watching him now, expression wary but present.“Almost there.An hour out.”
There was a pause.Elias understood what that meant.
“I know where you’re headed,” Elias said.
“Yes.”
Another pause—longer this time.Then, “I’ll be in touch.”
The line went dead.
Kol set the phone back into the console.“Sorry,” he said quietly, turning to her.“Didn’t mean to wake you.”
She studied him for a moment, then settled back against the seat, eyes half-lidded again.No words.Just acceptance.
The final stretch of road narrowed, water pressing closer on both sides until land felt like a thin ribbon holding them above the water, the late-afternoon sun throwing long gold streaks across the surface.When he finally pulled into the small, unmarked marina, the place was deserted.No voices.No movement.Just the soft lap of water against pylons and the low rustle of wind through mangroves as the day tipped toward evening.
Kol cut the engine.
He moved first, checking the perimeter out of habit, then returned to the passenger side.“We’re here.”
She followed him out of the car, movements careful, eyes taking everything in.He gathered supplies quickly—bags, fuel can, a cooler—loading them into the waiting boat.When everything was secure, he offered her a hand.
The boat ride took an hour.
The water was calm, the engine low and steady as the outline of the mainland softened behind them, colors deepening as the sun slid lower in the sky.Salt air filled his lungs, familiar and grounding.He kept his speed even, conscious of how she sat stiffly at first, knuckles white where she gripped the edge of the seat.
“That sound,” he said after a few minutes, nodding toward the darkness, “frogs and cicadas.Gets loud some nights.Means everything’s alive.”
She didn’t answer, but her shoulders eased by a fraction.
The house emerged gradually against the late-afternoon light—clean lines and shaded glass, set back from the water as if it belonged to the landscape rather than imposed itself on it.Kol cut the engine and stepped out first, scanning automatically before helping her onto the dock.
“This place is off-grid,” he told her as they walked.“Solar, battery backup, independent water.No external network access.Cameras are hardwired.Motion sensors cover the perimeter.Only way in is by boat.”
Inside, the house opened into a wide, airy space—glass and wood and stone blending seamlessly with the night beyond.The kitchen gleamed with stainless steel and dark countertops, clearly designed for someone who liked to cook.Beyond it, an indoor pool reflected soft light across the ceiling.A gym occupied one corner, functional and well-used.
Upstairs, he showed her the bedrooms, the office space overlooking the water, then paused at a reinforced door.“This is a panic room that has its own external air supply, which is impossible to find.If the house is on fire, you can come here and be safe.And the armory is here also.”He entered her biometrics into the system, step by step, narrating each action so nothing came as a surprise.“You have full access.Everything here is yours to use.”
He led her to a room at the end of the hall.“This is yours.Bathroom’s through there.Balcony overlooks the water.Lock from the inside if you want.Or don’t.”He stepped back.“My room is across the hall, but for now, I’ll be downstairs.Dinner will be in a couple of hours.”
He left her there and closed the door softly.
Kol showered quickly, watching the water run pink, then clear.He pulled a beer from the fridge and set a frozen risotto on the counter to thaw for later.The routine steadied him.
