The man’s fingers brushed the edge of it, but his eyes stayed on me. “If my employers?—”
I stepped forward, lowering my voice until only he could hear it. “Your employers won’t hear a word from you unless I want them to. You’ll escort me to the main deck, then take a long break in the engine room. Understood?”
He hesitated for half a second too long.
“Understood?” I prompted.
He swallowed and nodded. “Understood.”
The captain led me up to the main deck, but my mind was already elsewhere.
Kara Lennox.
Her file had finally reached my hands that morning. Born in London. Educated in Geneva. Vanished at twenty-one. A dozen aliases. The kind of woman who could disappear completely if she wanted to.
When I stepped onto the main deck, the sunlight was blinding. The horizon spread endlessly, the water flat as glass.
And there she was, stretched out on a lounger, sunglasses hiding her face, skin kissed bronze by the sun, her hair so luxurious against the white linen towel. She looked peaceful. Untouchable. Like she belonged there.
That illusion shattered the moment I spoke.
“Beautiful morning.”
Her entire body stilled. I watched the breath hitch in her chest before she slowly turned her head toward me. The sunglasses masked her eyes, but not the tension that rippled through her shoulders.
“Depends on who’s sharing it,” she said in a quiet voice that was sharp enough to cut glass.
She was afraid. She hid it well, but I could smell fear better than blood.
I moved closer, my expensive shoes silent on the teak deck. “You’ve done well for yourself,” I said, gesturing toward the horizon. “Most people would kill for this view.”
“Most people aren’t prisoners.”
“Semantics.”
She sat up, pulling the towel around her like armor. “How did you get on this boat?”
“The same way I get everywhere,” I replied. “I asked nicely.”
Her jaw tightened. “You bribed someone.”
“Everyone has a price. You included.”
That earned me a small, bitter laugh. “You sound just like ARCHEON.”
“I’m worse,” I stated simply.
She flinched. Not much. Just enough for me to notice.
The wind caught her hair, blowing a strand across her face. She didn’t move to fix it. Her pulse flickered just beneath the hollow of her throat, quick, visible.
“You don’t belong here,” she said finally.
I smiled faintly. “Neither do you.”
That made her look at me properly, slowly lifting her sunglasses, revealing eyes the color of smoke. Intelligent. Defiant. And under that, fear she couldn’t disguise.
“You’re not like your brothers,” she declared.
