If you fuck him, I’ll make him regret ever touching what’s mine.
I’m serious, Dove.Come back now.Or I’ll come get you.
You think an island can keep me out?
I built your fucking firewall.I am your firewall.
Don’t make me break it down.
I’m not playing anymore.
I’ve killed for you before.
Don’t make me do it again.
I sit up, clutching the phone, hands shaking.
He knows I left on the yacht.
He knows I’m with Wolf.
Of course, he does.
But he doesn’t know where I am.
Eleven-hundred islands.
And that?
That realization sparks not only fear but a sense of power I’ve never felt before.
For the first time in my life, Jag can’t see me.
He’s losing his mind behind the screen because the cameras he planted, the trackers, the tricks, none of them work here.
He’s blind.And that terrifies him.
I toss the phone face-down on the nightstand and press the heels of my hands to my eyes.My heart pounds like a jackhammer trying to drill its way out of my chest.
I’m so tempted to text back,How’s your hand?Just to push his buttons.To remind him that I’m not afraid to fight back.
But I don’t.
What if that one text pinpoints my location?What if he traces it?What if he already has?
By now, he’s done a deep dive into Wolf’s digital footprint.Wolf said he didn’t exist until six months ago, but his birth records, social media activity, hospitalizations, employment info at the tattoo shop—all of that will be used to track me down.
Not to mention, his billionaire father.Won’t be hard to determine which island Monty Novak owns.
I clench my fists and curl up beneath the blankets.
What scares me more than Jag is the stranger who pulled me out of the storm and dragged me onto his island of Alaskan gods.The stranger with ocean eyes and lickable lips.
Wolf talks about death like he spent a lifetime flirting with it.The same guy who made sure I had food, a place to sleep, and a door that locks.
He hasn’t tried anything.
Hasn’t pushed.
