The team greets her warmly, but without the excessive familiarity that would grate on my nerves. I’ve vetted them thoroughly—not just their medical credentials, which are impeccable, but their discretion. What happens on this yacht stays on this yacht.
“The master suite has been modified for your comfort and care,” Dr. Ramirez explains to Alina. “We’ll do regular checks, but our goal is to be as unobtrusive as possible while ensuring your safe journey home.”
Home. There’s that word again, the one that carries such weight now.
The engines rumble to life beneath our feet, a subtle vibration that signals our imminent departure. “Would you like to watch as we leave?” I ask Alina.
She nods, and I guide her toward the stern rail where we can observe our departure. Colin positions himself at a respectful distance, his attention divided between watching our perimeter and coordinating with the security team via his earpiece.
Alina’s hand finds mine as the yacht begins to move, water churning white beneath us as we pull away from the dock. Her fingers tighten around mine, and I wonder what she’s thinkingas we leave behind the place where she killed for me—not literally, since that was onourisland.
What a badass wife I have.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispers, her gaze fixed on the receding shoreline. “Even after everything.”
“Even after everything,” I echo.
She sighs deeply. “I think I’d like to return on our anniversary,” she smiles. “It would make a nice tradition.”
I chuckle. “That can be arranged.”
We stand there until we’re surrounded by nothing but the beautiful sea. Just when I’m about to suggest we sit down, Alina looks up at me.
“So, umm… I never asked, but what happened to the…” lowering her voice, she whispers, “… bodies?”
“Ian’s was shipped home to his family,” I reply solemnly. “And Colin took care of Dad’s. I haven’t asked how.”
“Why not?” she asks, confusion coating her words.
I shudder theatrically. “Sometimes it’s better not to know.”
Rolling her eyes, Alina catches Colin’s eyes and waves him over. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course, Mrs. Brewer-Russo,” he replies.
“Alina, please,” my wife insists.
“Of course, Mrs. Alina Brewer-Russo,” Colin amends.
Huffing, she looks up at me again, and I just nod, already knowing what she’s going to ask. “What did you do with Andrea’s body?” she murmurs, looking around as though anyone is going to be close enough to overhear.
Colin lets out a deep belly laugh. “Are you sure you want to know?”
She nods.
“Sharks.” That’s all he says before he walks away, still laughing.
Alina looks downright stricken. “B-but…” Shaking her head, she slaps my arm. “I hate admitting it, but you were right. I wish I hadn’t asked.”
Chapter 47
Raffaele
The yacht rocks gently beneath my feet as I stare at Andrea’s phone, the evidence glaring back at me from the screen with the harsh clarity of betrayal.
We’ve been on the ocean for almost twenty-four hours, and it’s the first time I’ve had the time to look into this. Well, the first time I’m making time for it. Because there were plenty of opportunities in the past week. But that time was for Alina and nothing else.
My jaw locks, muscles tensing to the breaking point as Colin scrolls through the messages again. The tropical sun beats down on the deck ofThe Artemis, but the heat spreading through my chest has nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with rage.
