*
The first cavernwas wide and dark, the walls slick with sea residue. Water pooled in uneven hollows. As she moved, her light threw shifting shadows across the stone, and the echo of her footsteps made the space feel larger than it was. She ventured farther in.
The back chamber was narrower, the ceiling lower. But it was clean. Too clean. No driftwood. No seaweed. No broken shells. The ground bore faint scrapes, drag marks, and a slight indentation, as though something heavy had rested there.
She crouched, running her fingers along the stone. Smoothed by water. Or by crates.
A perfect place to offload cargo. The tide would rise, erase it all just as it had with the children.
She turned to go, but her boot caught on to something. She stumbled forward, bracing herself on one hand. Her lantern swung wildly but didn’t fall.
Cursing softly, she crouched to inspect the snag. A rock, she thought, but no, it was loose. She nudged it aside and found a coil of rope, partially buried in a recess between the stones. Heavy. Used.
Her heart hammered.
Evidence. Real, tangible evidence. It wasn’t her imagination. She hadn’t chased shadows into the dark. There was something here. Someone had used this cave. Recently. And not just once. A flicker of elation bloomed beneath her ribs, nearly dizzying. She was right.
But it faded quickly, replaced by the need to conceal it. She had no idea who might return, or when. She replaced the rock carefully, fingers trembling now for a different reason.
She rose and turned back toward the entrance, the lantern steady in her grip, her heart still fluttering with the thrill of discovery. She brushed the grit from her palms and started back toward the cave’s entrance.
*
The daylight beyondwas blinding. Her eyes had adjusted to the gloom, and the sudden glare made the world flatten. She steppedforward straight into something solid. Hard. Unyielding. A wall. No, a man.
She gasped, stumbling back with a sharp cry. The lantern flared wildly, its light swinging in a trembling arc. Panic seized her chest. For one breathless second, she couldn’t even form a name. There was only the pounding rush of fear in her ears.
“You don’t belong here,” a deep, low voice said.
Her breath caught in her throat. The light shifted.
“Quinton?” she managed.
His face came into view as the shadows fell away.
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak at first. His presence filled the space, as steady as the tide.
“You followed me.”
“I was already here.”
“How long?”
“Long enough to hate every second of it.”
Mary-Ann steadied her breath, but the rapid pulse in her throat betrayed her. “Then you understand why I had to come.”
His jaw shifted slightly. “You could have been seen.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You don’t know that,” he said, his voice low, not angry, but tight with something unspoken. Fear, maybe. Or something closer to regret.
She did know. But she didn’t argue with him.
He stepped aside so she could pass, but she didn’t move immediately. The silence stretched, the sea murmuring behind them.
“You’re angry,” she said.
