Chapter 9 Protective Custody
Protective Custody
Emma stepped out of the shower to hear her phone ring.
She wrapped the towel around herself, padding across the cool tile floor. Water dripped from the ends of her hair, tracing slow paths down her spine, cooling against skin that still held the heat of the water. Humidity still clung to the air despite the overhead fan spinning lazy circles.
Through the window, the sky was melting into shades of coral and gold. Evening on Isla Nocturna felt like exhaling—the frenetic energy of the day softening into something quieter.
Emma glanced at the screen.
Kate Danvers (Almost Ivory)
A smile curved her lips. Kate rarely called just to chat, but when she did, it was always worthwhile. Emma swiped to answer, tucking the phone against her shoulder as she reached for her robe.
“Kate, hi—”
“Emma, tell me you’re somewhere safe.”
Her smile died.
Emma froze—not only physically, but mentally, like something inside her had been caught mid-step. Kate’s voice was tight. Controlled, but threaded with urgency.
“I—yes. I’m home in my bungalow. Why?”
Kate exhaled, but the tension in her voice didn’t ease. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Emma’s pulse kicked up a notch. She slipped the robe on, tying the belt with hands that didn't work quite right. “What do you mean?”
“Emma,” Kate’s tone sharpened. Not unkind, but uncompromising. “Don’t make me pull it out of you. Something happened.”
A chill skittered down Emma’s spine despite the warm air.
How did Kate know?
She had only told Morgan, who’d texted Zach, and he didn’t speak. Or maybe he did? He might have told Nick…
She wrenched her mind back to what mattered—what she’d been ignoring—crossed to the small dining table, and sank into a chair. The wood was smooth beneath her damp hands. Outside, palm fronds rustled in the evening breeze.
“There was… a note,” Emma admitted. “Left at my door. Yesterday morning.”
Silence on the other end. Then Kate asked, “What kind of note?”
“A threat. Sort of.” Even as she said it, the word resonated wrongly. Too soft. “It said I should leave the island. That I shouldn’t be here.”
“And you reported it.”
“Of course. Zach came immediately.” Well, it was Morgan who called him. He was still notified. He’d still shown up.
“Good,” Kate’s voice held a flicker of approval. “What did he say?”
Emma hesitated. The conversation with Zach replayed in her mind—his rigid stance in her doorway, the absolute certainty in his manner when he’d demanded she relocate.
The way he’d looked at her when she’d said no.
“He thinks it’s serious,” Emma acknowledged. “He wants me to move out for a few days, since the letter writer knows where I live.” She shrugged, although Kate couldn't see her. “I told him no.”
The silence that followed was weighted.
Emma rushed to fill it. “Kate, it’s nothing. The resort’s been tense—people are stressed about the opening timeline, the hiring quotas. I’ve rejected a lot of applications. It's probably someone trying to scare me.”
“Emma—”
Emma's tone sharpened. “I’m not going to overreact to a prank. Moving into Zach’s protective custody over a single childish note is overkill.”
Another pause. Emma could almost see Kate on the other end—in her home office, a little crease between her brows that appeared when she was thinking.
“I called because I had a feeling,” Kate said. “The kind that shouldn’t be ignored.”
Emma blinked. “A feeling?”
“I didn’t sleep last night. Had a nightmare—one of those you where you remember the feelings but not the details.
So I took a nap this afternoon and woke up a few minutes ago with the compelling sense that something wasn’t right.
On the island. With you.” Kate’s voice was steady, composed.
“I’ve learned not to ignore those feelings. That’s why I called—to warn you.”
Emma’s grip stiffened on the phone. Kate wasn’t dramatic. She didn’t exaggerate. If she were concerned enough to call…
But accepting that meant the threat was real.
“I appreciate you checking on me,” Emma said slowly. “I do. But I think Zach’s overreacting. He sees threats everywhere—it’s his job. This is doubtless resort politics. Someone trying to intimidate me.”
“Emma,” Kate’s voice shifted. Lower. More compelling. “Do you remember what happened to me?”
Emma’s chest tightened. “Of course.”
“Then you know I understand what you’re going through right now.”
The room felt smaller now. Emma’s gaze drifted to the window, to the setting sun outside. Across the property, security lights were flickering on.
“I thought the threat wasn’t real too,” Kate continued. “I convinced myself it was nothing. That people were overreacting.”
Emma said nothing, her throat dry.
“I was wrong,” Kate declared. “And it almost cost me everything. If Zach hadn’t insisted on protecting me—if I’d brushed it off—I don’t know if I’d be here right now.”
The words landed like stones dropping into still water.
Emma’s hand moved to her chest, pressing against the flutter of unease beneath her ribs. She’d heard the stories secondhand. Kate had been targeted, locked in a sauna, then drugged and kidnapped.
The three brothers rescued her, with Zach in the lead.
But that was different.
Wasn’t it?
“Emma, the worst mistake I ever made was assuming the threat wasn’t real.” Conviction resounded in Kate's words. “Please don’t make the same mistake I did.”
“I’m not—” Emma started, then stopped.
What was she doing?
Arguing with people who had already lived through what she was dismissing? Defending her pride? Protecting her independence? Or refusing to admit she might actually be afraid? Might need help?
“When Zach Steele tells you something is dangerous, you listen,” Kate said. “I’m alive because I did.”
Emma closed her eyes. She reached up to adjust the towel around her hair, buying herself a moment to think.
To feel.
Fear prickled at the edges of her awareness—the kind she’d been pushing down all day. The kind that whispered what if in the quiet moments.
“You’re not being brave, Emma,” Kate said, gentler this time. “You’re being stubborn.”
The words stung because they were true.
Movement sounded on the other end of the line—a door opening, footsteps.
“Is that Emma?” Lena’s voice, distant.
“Yes,” Kate’s voice muffled, as if her hand covered the microphone. Whispers seeped through: Kate was obviously updating her.
A click, and the audio expanded. Emma could hear the ambient sounds of Kate’s office now—the faint hum of a computer, the rustle of papers.
“Emma Vann,” Lena's warmth and exasperation were unmistakable even through the lousy speakerphone. “Tell me you’re not being an idiot.”
Despite everything, a smile tugged at her lips. “Hi, Lena.”
“Don’t ‘Hi, Lena’ me. Kate told me what’s happening.”
“It’s not—”
“If you say ‘it’s not a big deal,’ I’m going to reach through this phone and smack you.”
Emma laughed—a short, startled sound. Trust Lena to cut straight through the tension.
“Emma,” Lena’s voice softened. “I ignored warning signs once. You know what happened.”
Her smile faded. Emma did know. Lena had told her about Chester. The stalking. The escalation.
“You don’t get extra points for being brave,” she continued. “Trust me. I’ve been there. I moved into their guest suite, remember?”
Emma’s throat tightened. She stared at the table, at the grain of the wood blurring from the moisture in her eyes.
“Let the people who care about you protect you,” Lena murmured. “You don’t have to face every threat alone.”
The words settled into Emma’s chest, pressing against something tender and guarded. This was what she’d been running from her whole life, wasn’t it? Letting people in. Letting them matter enough to change her choices.
Her mother had done that—let love reshape everything, built her life around other people instead of herself. Chosen family over career. Dependence over independence. Emma had sworn she wouldn’t do that.
But this wasn’t the same. Was it?
“Emma,” Kate's voice was gentle, careful, “people who send threats don’t always stop at threats. Sometimes they’re just announcing what comes next.”
Emma’s hand pressed harder against her chest. Her heartbeat was too fast, too loud. She thought of the note. The block print. The precision of the words. ‘You don’t belong here.’
She thought of Zach’s face—the cold certainty in his voice when he said, ‘someone walked up to your door in the middle of the night.’
She thought of Kate’s voice, steady with experience. ‘I was wrong.’
And she thought of something else. Something she’d been avoiding all day.
The fear.
The visceral kind that didn't respond to logic—that woke her at 3 am, heart racing, listening to every creak and rustle outside the window. The kind that made every shadow mean something.
She hadn’t slept last night either.
Maybe this wasn’t about pride. Maybe it was about survival.
Emma exhaled slowly, the breath unsteady despite her effort to control it. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Kate echoed.
“Okay,” the word tasted odd in her mouth. Heavy—like admitting defeat and choosing life at the same time. “I’ll talk to Zach. I’ll… I’ll accept the relocation.”
“Thank God,” Lena breathed, “because the alternative was me flying down there and dragging you out myself.”
“She’s not joking,” Kate added.
Emma found herself smiling again, even as her rib cage remained tight. “I know. I’ll talk to him in the morning.”
“No. Call Zach now,” Kate insisted. “Don’t wait.”
“I… fine. I’ll find him tonight.”
“And Emma?” Kate’s voice softened. “This doesn’t make you weak. It makes you smart.”
Emma’s eyes stung. She blinked hard. “Thanks, Kate.”
“We love you,” Lena said. “Be safe.”
“Love you both, too.”
The call ended.
Emma set the phone down on the table. Her hand lingered, fingers tracing the edge of the case.
Outside, the last of the daylight was fading. All the security lights shone brightly, casting golden pools across the pathways. Through the window, she could see the main resort building in the distance—tall and bright and protected.
Zach’s domain.
It wouldn’t kill her to stay in a luxurious hotel room for a few days while Zach sorted this out.
Emma stood, tightening the belt of her robe, studying her reflection in the darkening glass—a ghost image, barely there. She didn’t look weak. She looked tired. And maybe, for the first time today, honest.
She would move into Zach Steele’s protective custody.
The thought should have felt like surrender. Like giving something up.
Instead, it felt like the first full breath she’d taken since opening her door yesterday at dawn.