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I notice Raven leaning on the wall, scanning the hall like he’s a bouncer. He’s always watching. He cocks his head, his eyes narrowing—Maddy is several feet away from him chatting with a girl. It’s the first time I’ve seen her out mingling.
She starts walking toward the terrace. Raven follows, only to stop where she just stood and bend over to pick something up—her wrist bracelet. He sticks it in his pocket and walks in the opposite direction.
Raven is observant, but right now, he looks like a stalker.
“Archer, we need to talk.” Someone taps me on the shoulder, and I swear, I’ll punch him for interrupting this perfect moment.
It’s Marlow. His phone is in his hand, and his gaze is anything but drunk. “Check your phone.”
“Dude, not now,” I snap.
“Archer, check your phone,” he insists. “Then tell me what to do.”
Kat looks worried as I dig in my pocket, checking my phone.
Four missed calls from Slate.
Several messages.
My eyes widen as I read them—fuuuck…
“I have to leave,” I tell Kat.
“I’m coming with you,” she says right away. “Can I? I’m not staying here without you.”
I nod, my eyes fixed on the message on the screen.
“What is it now?” she asks.
I can’t lie, and I can’t suppress the nasty feeling inside me—something always goes wrong on this island.
“O’Shea is dead.”
34
KAT
Blood.
O’Shea’s lifeless body.
An eerie feeling at the hollow sound of multiple footsteps against the concrete floor as me, Archer, Marlow, Raven, Bishop, and several security guys walk into the holding cell and stare at the body on the floor.
“How?” Archer asks coldly.
One of the security guys rubs his neck, looking apologetic. “There’s no way Cunningham could do this unless he had someone on the inside.”
Cunningham is gone—that’s the harsher news. We should’ve kept an eye onhiminstead of O’Shea.
Archer exhales loudly, tilting his head back. “Fucking great. Our entire security team is jeopardized. How the fuck—”
He doesn’t finish, only ruffles his hair.
The security guy shifts uneasily. “We’ve announced a search and are sending a team to Port Mrei to do a sweep. Another team is on the cameras, studying every second of footage to see if Cunningham slipped out through the checkpoints.”
Bishop shakes his head. “If he was smart enough to escape, he’s smart enough to get away unnoticed—in a disguise, in a work trucks, a bus, anything.”
“I’ll have a talk with Butcher,” Raven says, his voice cold and indifferent as he leans with his shoulder against the wall and smokes. “Ninety-nine percent chance he had something to do with it. But he won’t admit it. Still, he needs to know we’re on it.”
