“They don’t understand,” he continued.“She is broken now.Not because of them—but because of others who acted without discipline.And broken things need guidance.”
His mouth curved, faintly.
“She will come back,” he said with absolute certainty.“She needs structure.Correction.Someone who understands how to make her useful again.”
Outside, the city moved on, unaware.
Inside the office, plans were already shifting.
Resources would be mobilized.Legal shields reinforced.New intermediaries inserted.Pressure applied in places that didn’t bleed.
He would not rush.
He would be patient.
After all, he had already paid for her.
And when he found her again, he would make very sure she understood that some debts were never forgiven.
Chapter Eight
The Keys disappearedbehind them in the rearview mirror as a smear of green and blue and salt.
Kol didn’t look back.
His hands were steady on the wheel of the truck, knuckles loose, posture relaxed in the way that only came when his mind was already ten steps ahead of the moment.The road stretched north in a long, sun-bleached ribbon, heat shimmering above the asphalt.Palm trees thinned, replaced by scrub and concrete, the world returning to something harder and less forgiving with every mile.
Eliza sat in the passenger seat, seatbelt fastened, window cracked just enough to let the air move.She hadn’t spoken since they left the dock.Not because she was afraid—Kol had learned the difference—but because she was thinking.
That, more than anything, told him they were past running.
The phone mounted near the dash vibrated once.Kol didn’t glance at it.He tapped the control on the steering wheel instead.
“Mateo,” he said, knowing who it was by the ringtone.
The line connected instantly.“We're all here.”
