“More real than anything I’ve known.”
She leaned in for another kiss.
A distant rumble vibrated through the wind.
Blake jolted.
Light swept across the cottage walls like a search beam.
The warmth between them vanished—swallowed by the incoming storm.
The low,mechanical sound grew louder through the wind. Blake’s hand hovered near his weapon as the snowmobile crested the rise, wind kicking powder into the air like mist. Instinct had him shift forward, half a step in front of Vivian, body automatically aligning between her and the threat.
The rider cut the engine halfway down the slope, coasting the rest of the way in silence. The machine hissed to a stop.
Even before the man pulled off his goggles, Blake knew who it was. The same stance, the same eerie stillness that had filled the elevator back at the hospital. Thirteen. His gloved hand flexed once at his side, and the faint mark of the laurel tattoo caught the gray light.
They met at the front porch, the wind cutting through the eaves hard enough to make the boards creak.
“Morning,” Thirteen said, voice calm—too calm. “You both look like you’re expecting an ambush.”
“Maybe because we don’t trust you,” Vivian snipped, arms crossed tight against the cold.
That earned him a small smile. “You’re sharp. He wasn’t exaggerating.”
Her brow furrowed. “Who?”
Thirteen’s eyes flicked between them, reading the tension like he’d written it himself. “Maddox.”
Blake’s gut went cold. “I knew it,” he said, stepping forward. “I knew Maddox was the leak.”
Thirteen shook his head once, slow. “Not him.”
Blake stopped short. “Then who?”
“Someone close to him,” Thirteen said, voice steady but laced with something that sounded like pity. “Someone who’s been feeding Laurel Tide intel for months. Maddox doesn’t even see it. He thinks he’s in control.”
The wind picked up, flinging snow across the porch. Blake set his jaw, the muscle barely ticking, his mind turning hard andfast, matching names to possibilities. He didn’t like how short the list was.
Vivian’s breath clouded the air between them. “So he’s not the enemy but not smart enough to see one. We’ve been running blind,” she said.
Thirteen nodded once. “And if you don’t move soon, you’ll run out of time entirely.”
“You said you could help,” Blake said.
“I said I would,” Thirteen unhooked a bag from the back of the snowmobile and tossed it to the ground, then pulled a small waterproof satchel from his jacket and set it on top of the bag. “Coordinates. Schedules. Access codes. It’s not everything, but it’s enough to get you close with the intel I already left you in the car.”
Vivian crouched and grabbed the bag. “Close to what?”
“To the docks,” Thirteen said. “Laurel Tide’s next shipment leaves in forty-eight hours. My daughter will be on that boat. I thought we’d have more time when I arranged you two getting aboardWindward Lady, but Laurel got spooked.”
Blake’s jaw tightened. “That was you.”
Thirteen only stood stone-faced as if the question wasn’t worth a response.
“And if we do this, what do we get in return?”
Thirteen hesitated, and something—regret, maybe—passed through his eyes. “You get her out. Make sure she’s safe. And I’ll get you everything.”
