Another quiet beat passes. Something shifts between us, not trust, but recognition.
“Find out who’s behind this fast,” Laurent says. “Because I am a patient man for only so long. If I don’t have my daughter back by sunrise tomorrow, you will learn that the hard way.”
He stands, his gaze never leaving mine. I don’t say a word.
“You have a narrow window,” he says quietly. “Sunrise.”
Laurent turns and leaves, his men falling into step behind him like this conversation never happened, like he hasn’t just tilted the ground under my feet.
I don’t move, staring at the table, at the untouched drink, at the space he occupied seconds ago.
If he’s telling the truth, then I didn’t just grab leverage. I walked straight into someone else’s game.
The timing doesn’t line up. The murder, the memo Tripp swore existed, the photos my father kept that Coco found without knowing what they were.
None of it is random. It now seems staged.
And I was arrogant enough to think I was the one setting the trap.
I close my eyes, jaw tight, a slow burn starting behind my ribs.
If Laurent didn’t order my father’s death, then someone wanted me to believe he did. Wanted my attention locked in one direction while something else moved.
If Laurent’s telling the truth, releasing her now would be premature.
I don’t move pieces until I know what’s actually in play. But motherfucker, someone is going down.
I unlockthe safe-style door and step back into the underground apartment.
Something’s off.
The space is too quiet. Not the normal, contained silence of the bunker, but an absence that presses in on me. I scan the room immediately. No Coco.
My instincts flare, sharp and immediate. She doesn’t have anywhere to go. She knows that. The logic doesn’t settle the tightness winding through my chest.
“Coco?” My voice echoes off the walls.
Nothing.
I move deeper into the space, checking the kitchen, the den, the bedroom I told her was hers even though she hasn’t used it. Each empty room tightens the coil. Irrational thoughts crowd in despite my effort to shut them down.
I stop and listen.
There. A faint sound. Soft. Rhythmic.
Water.
I head for the pool room and push open the clouded glass door.
She’s in the water.
Coco moves through it with slow, deliberate strokes, her body cutting clean lines beneath the surface. The lights catch on her skin, turning the water into something luminous around her. She reaches the edge and arches slightly as she grips the ledge, breath coming hard as she rests there.
She hasn’t seen me yet.
For a second, I just stand there, watching. Relief hits first, quick and sharp, followed immediately by something darker and harder to control.
She turns her head and notices me. Surprise flashes across her face before she masks it.
