I wove through the chaos, the tableau of destruction imprinted behind my eyelids—every cry, every plea, a siren call to action.
The scent of gunpowder lingered in the air as I approached the beach, a mocking contrast to the tropical paradise that had turned into a hunting ground.
My legs pumped harder, each stride a silent vow.
Olivia, just hold on.
The path to the beach was a blur of green and brown, fronds whipping at my arms as I dodged through the landscaped maze. Every shout behind me and every scream tightened the air in my chest.
"Marcus!" I called out, half-hoping he'd reveal himself, half-dreading the same. No answer, but the roar of the ocean grew louder and more insistent with each step I took.
"Olivia!" I shouted her name into the wind, willing it to carry, to find her, to wrap her in safety. My heart thrashed against my ribs, a caged bird desperate for release.
The beach unfolded before me, a stretch of pristine white sand marred by the day's horrors. I scanned the horizon, every shadow, every rock, searching for her, for any sign.
Stay sharp, Eva. She's here. She has to be.
"Please," I whispered to no one, to everyone.
Let her be safe.
Sand flew beneath my feet as I emerged onto the beach, eyes darting from one potential hiding place to another. The ocean's rhythm played a deceptive lullaby against the distant staccato of gunfire.
Where are you, Olivia?
"Olivia!" My voice cut through the chaos, a blade seeking its mark.
There! A figure huddled behind a massive rock, shoulders heaving with shallow breaths. Her form was unmistakable, even from a distance—Olivia. Relief washed over me in an overwhelming wave; it took everything not to collapse under its weight. But something was wrong.
"Mom!" Her cry was a thin thread of sound.
I tore across the sand, heart hammering as fear clawed its way back up my throat. Close now, I could see the crimson stain spreading across her arm.
She'd been shot.
Chapter36
I settledbeside Olivia on the jagged surface of the rock. Olivia's silhouette was hunched, a figure carved from shadows and pain against the backdrop of Paradise Key's faux tranquility. My gaze traced the line of crimson that ran down her arm.
"Hey," I murmured, reaching for her wounded arm with hands that had steadied guns and soothed skinned knees with equal proficiency. "It's just a graze. You're going to be alright."
She didn't lift her head, but her hands dropped, revealing eyes red-rimmed and haunted. The bullet might have only kissed her skin, but something deeper had been punctured.
"Olivia." My voice was soft yet carried the weight of a mother's heart. I rested my hand between her shoulder blades, feeling the tremors coursing through her.
"Mom," she whispered.
"It’s okay," I said, giving her space to breathe, to piece herself back together.
She exhaled a shaky breath that carried the weight of untold stories. "That night," Olivia started, "with Mark… the beach was ours."
I watched her closely. Her hands, once steady, now trembled as if they held the fragile pieces of her heart.
"Go on," I urged, my tone a tempered blend of command and comfort.
"Mark… You were right; we were together." The words spilled out haltingly. "The sand was cool, the stars like a blanket over us." She paused, gulping air as if it could fill the void Mark left behind.
"Olivia." My prompt was soft, yet insistent.
