"Footsteps," he breathed out, already edging away.
"Wait, Marcus?—"
"I can't." His gaze darted around the clearing, wild and desperate. "Not again."
"Marcus, don't run. I need to know what you mean. What about that guy? Who is he?"
"I need to go.”
“No, Marcus. You don’t have to be afraid.”
“Easy for you to say," he spat back, "with your badge and your backup."
"Backup is miles away. It's just us here. Cut off from the world."
"Exactly," he said, as the footsteps grew louder and closer. “I need to make sure no one knows I’m here.”
"Whatever happens, I can protect you," I urged, but the panic had taken hold, churning through him like a current.
"Sorry, no can do." He backed into the shadows, a ghost of a man wronged by life one too many times.
"Marcus, damn it!" My frustration boiled over as he vanished into the greenery, each rustling leaf marking his retreat.
I paced the clearing, my thoughts a whirlwind. Marcus's taut face, his insistent claims—they clung to me like burrs. Could the truth be so twisted? Ten years had passed since Isla's case closed; ten years of rotting lies? What did he mean to say about this guy? Who was he?
I looked around but found no one, then I hurried back to my bungalow. There on the wooden porch, I saw something.
My heart hitched.
I crouched, hands parting leaves with surgical precision. There, nestled as if by an afterthought, lay an unmarked envelope—ivory against the green tapestry.
Fingers trembling, I broke the seal. The note inside unfolded with a soft crease, the letters stark against the white paper:
"Stop looking, or you'll be next."
No signature, no flourish, just those words like ice water down my spine.
"Great," I murmured, scanning the untamed brush around me as if the trees held prying eyes. My pulse hammered, each beat echoing the threat scrawled in block letters.
"Threats now? Really?" I scoffed into the void, but the bravado couldn't mask the dread seeping into my bones.
"Whoever you are, better watch your back," I whispered, a silent promise to the wind. My jaw set, my gaze hardened. I had to shield Olivia, even if it meant walking through fire.
"Game on," I breathed, stepping forward with newfound determination. The stakes were clear, and I was all in.
Chapter22
THEN:
The security guard's grip was unyielding; his hands clamped around Javier's arms like iron bands as he escorted him toward the boat that would take him away from the island, never to return. With each step he took away from Isla, the tightness in his chest grew, a physical manifestation of the heartache that threatened to consume him. Yet, even in this moment of anguish, Javier's gaze never wavered from Isla’s. His eyes, bright with unshed tears, held a silent promise—a vow that not even the steely force of Victoria's will could smother the flames of their love.
Isla stood motionless, her feet rooted in the sand that had been their sanctuary mere moments ago. The world tilted on its axis, her senses numbed by the spectacle unfolding before her. The vibrant colors of the beach faded into a monochrome palette, the laughter and warmth sucked out of the air, leaving a void that echoed with Javier's absence. The sharp scent of saltwater stung her nostrils, a cruel reminder of the distance growing between them with every heart-wrenching second.
As the security guard's silhouette dwindled, merging with the seafoam green of the estate's manicured hedges, Javier turned for one last look. His dark, curly hair whipped about his face in an untamed dance. Even from afar, the resilience etched into Javier's features was unmistakable—his spirit might be bruised, but it remained unbroken.
"Javier!"
Isla's voice cracked. She raised a trembling hand, reaching out to the space her love had occupied, now filled with nothing but the ghosts of their shared dreams.
