60. Scarlett
Scarlett
T he island didn’t even look real.
Turquoise water stretched endlessly, clearer than glass. White sand glittered beneath the sun, palm trees swaying with lazy indifference—as if the world wasn’t burning beyond the horizon.
We pulled up to the dock, and I stepped out in my boots, sun glinting off the laces as I adjusted my footing on the polished planks.
A wave rolled in with perfect timing, and I exhaled with the dramatic flair of a rich widow hiding something in the floorboards.
Zeke passed our bags off to the waiting staff with quiet efficiency, eyes always scanning—sharp and unreadable.
Trace’s gaze swept the shoreline, shoulders tense, posture alert. He looked ready to take down a threat at the first ripple.
Alden slid his sunglasses up his nose and muttered, “Jesus Christ,” under his breath, clearly offended by how disgustingly nice it all was.
I turned and smirked. “What? You boys don’t enjoy tropical luxury with a side of impending doom?”
Kane sat down, lounging on a chair near the dock, linen shirt unbuttoned, drink in hand. He looked like he’d been flown in from a music video shoot.
“Damn, Scar,” he said, grinning. “You end up on an island like this and still look like you’re plotting a coup.”
I tilted my head. “Let’s be clear—I didn’t pick this place. A little too curated for my taste.”
He lifted his drink in mock salute. “Still beats a bunker.”
We followed a winding stretch of wooden bridges toward the villas—Maldives-style bungalows balanced above the sea. Each one came with a private pool, a stairway into the ocean, and curtains that billowed in the breeze like they belonged in some influencer’s fantasy reel.
I was assigned the center villa.
Of course I was.
Trace to the left. Alden to the right.
Naturally.
Zeke handed me a key card with no fanfare. “Stay visible. Don’t wander.”
I gave him a slow, syrupy smile. “Worried about me?”
His tone cut short. “No. Worried about what happens if you get bored.”
Fair.
Inside, the villa smelled like salt and money. I dropped my bag on the crisp white bed and stepped to the wall of glass overlooking the endless ocean.
On either side of me, I could feel them—Trace and Alden—pacing their own cages, thoughts loud enough to shake the sea.
And I smiled.
This was going to be a beautiful disaster.