David turned to face her, hand outstretched. “It’s not.”
The way he looked at her, with genuine concern in his eyes, got her feet moving. She stepped forward and let her fingers slip into his, her grip tight. His hand was warm, grounding.
David tugged her in beside him, sliding an arm around her waist and holding her close. Holding her shaking body still, giving her the courage to nod to Zach. “Ready.”
Zach queued up the footage. “This was taken at 3:07 am”
Lena leaned in to see better. “Where?”
“On the back path near the staff village.”
The screen flared to life. The footage was washed in grayscale, edged with distortion—standard surveillance, grainy and cold. Difficult to see. Lena stepped closer, breath shallow. The path was moonlit, quiet, and then?—
A person.
A man.
Chester Dinkley.
A rot she’d thought she’d carved out of her life.
Her breath snagged in her throat. Her fingernails dug into David’s arm.
He hadn’t changed. Why would he? It had only been a little over a month since she’d last seen him. Same uptight posture, expensive loafers that didn’t touch dirt, a blazer too clean and too warm for a tropical evening. And that smile: smug, calculated. The same one he wore when she was shoved into a squad car like yesterday’s trash, the same one that haunted her nightmares.
He looked straight into the camera. Smiled, like he knew she would be watching. Held something up. A seashell. White, ridged, broken at the edge.
He held it up like a trophy. No, a message. He pointed something at the camera before turning and walking off.
The moment froze and shattered around her. A sharp cry escaped her lips, barely recognizable as her own. Her knees gave out. David caught her before she hit the floor, his arms tightening around her as she folded in on herself.
“No,” she choked, her voice ragged, shaking. “No—he’s not supposed to be here. He can’t be here—he’s not allowed?—”
Her brain scrambled, latching onto rules, distance, court orders, oceans—anything that made sense. But nothing grounded her. Nothing explained how the man who’d destroyed her life had found her again.
David pulled her into his arms and held her tight, his fingertips pressing into her spine like he could hold her splintering pieces together.
“So you confirm it’s Chester Dinkley.” Zach’s voice was low, comforting.
Lena nodded, cheek still snuggled against David’s heart. “Yes, that's him.”
“Then we’ve got a problem,” Zach said. “He’s not a guest, but he’s definitely on the island.”
“Will you be able to find him?” Her voice was small—scared—to her own ears.
“I already put a team on tracking him. They’re hunting down flights, rental cars, anything. Ghost is combing through his financials. If he showed up on his own dime, under his own name, he’ll have left a trail.”
David’s muscles shifted beneath her cheek, and she lifted her head to see him studying the video feed, still cycling on a loop. “He’s not sharp enough to move off-grid.”
Lena wanted to believe that. She really did. But Chester had always been smart enough to be dangerous.
She pulled away from David and stumbled out into the hallway. She needed air.
She slammed open the outer door and collapsed onto the bench outside, her bones having forgotten how to hold her. She distantly registered the thick, humid air curling around her skin, clinging to her like sweat-laced silk. The rustle of the ocean breeze through palm fronds whispered of mockery—nature going on as usual, oblivious to the storm now roaring in her bloodstream.
Her hands shook in her lap, fingers clawing reflexively into the fabric of her skirt. Her pulse throbbed in her throat. Her vision wavered around the edges, blurred with tears she refused to shed. Her breath came too fast, shallow and sharp, stirring panic that had nothing to do with the heat.
He’d found her. Despite the courts. Despite the ocean. Despite every mile put between them. She thought she’d escaped Chester Dinkley. But monsters don’t give up when they think you belong to them.
