I don’t need proof or logic.
I feel it low in my gut.
And it has her name engraved into it.
Octavia.
My jaw clenches so hard I’m certain something cracks. I don’t ignore instincts like this.
The dead bastard at my feet stares up at nothing, his eyes glassy and mouth slack.
The moment Adriano pats his pockets and freezes, I know.
That damn feeling again.
“My phone,” he says, irritated. “It’s gone. Must’ve lost it in the mess.”
“No,” I snap. “You didn’t.”
I don’t know how I know, only that I do. This was a distraction.
Too easy.
We caught him too easily. As if he hadn’t even tried to hide.
As if he wanted to be caught.
He was sacrificed.
“Track it,” I bark.
Logically, he could have misplaced it. But the feeling won’t ease. It tightens in my chest, makes it hard to breathe.
Adriano’s fingers fly as I pass him my phone. The colour drains from his face.
“It’s on the island,” he says. “About nineteen miles away.”
He looks up at me. “How the fuck did it get there?”
My blood turns to ice.
I snatch the phone from his hand and punch the address into the navigation. I’m already sprinting for the car, calling Octavia as I move.
No answer.
Fuck.
Be in bed.
Be asleep.
Don’t make me be right about this.
Adriano barely makes it into the passenger seat before I floor it. I drive like a man with nothing left to lose.
Fifteen minutes later, my world ends.
I see her before the car has even stopped.
