She stepped out into the fading light, intensely aware of Zach falling into step beside her. Of the careful distance he maintained—not quite touching, but close enough to feel the warmth of his presence beside her.
The coin rested heavily in her pocket. The memory of that glowing spiral played behind her eyes, and the ghost of the kiss that had almost happened lingered on her lips like an unfinished promise.
Whatever lived in that cave... she couldn't shake the thought that they were at the center of it.
Somehow, despite the danger and the fear and the impossible circumstances, that feltright.
Chapter 29
Island Medicine
The walkback from Solombra Cave was quiet. Not the tense silence from before—the sharp-edged thing that had sat between them like drawn steel. This was different. Softer, somehow. Fragile.
Zach kept his eyes scanning the trail ahead, but his awareness tracked Emma beside him. Her faint scent of sandalwood and vanilla was now as familiar to him as his own breathing.
She didn't mention the almost-kiss. Neither had he. Some things didn’t need words. He understood that better than most.
When they reached the cottage, he performed his standard threat assessment: perimeter clear, no unusual shadows, no tracks that shouldn’t be there. The night shift guard would make rounds. Everything looked clean.
“Come on,” Emma headed up the steps. “I need air. And Ana-Luz gave me something.”
Zach followed her around to the back porch, automatically positioning his body between her and the tree line. Old habits. Guardian instincts never quite shut off, even when the immediate threat level was low.
It was dangerous to be outside, but he could give her a few minutes.
The porch lights were off—standard protocol during guard patrols—but starlight washed the space in silver. Emma settled onto the swing, setting a simple glass bottle on the small table between the two chairs. The liquid inside looked dark in the dim light.
“What’s that?” He lowered himself into the chair beside her, angling so he could watch both Emma and the approaches to the cottage.
“Ana-Luz called it ‘island medicine.’” Emma’s mouth quirked as she worked the cork free. “Said her grandmother’s recipe cures everything from heartbreak to hurricanes.”
“Does it cure anything?”
“It’s more likely to create bad decisions.” She poured amber liquid into two glasses, the sound intimate in the quiet night. “Want to find out?”
Zach studied the glass she offered him. His first instinct was to refuse—stay sharp, stay alert, maintain readiness. But Emma was looking at him with something in her dark eyes that made refusal feel like retreat.
He took the glass.
The rum punch tingled, pleasant and warm going down, tasting of lime and honey and spices he couldn’t name. Emma gave a small hum of approval beside him, and something in his chest loosened.
“Not bad,” he admitted.
“High praise from you.” Her lips curved around the rim of her glass. “I was expecting a full tactical analysis of its alcohol content and potential impairment effects.”
“Fifteen to eighteen percent. Moderate impairment after two glasses.” He smirked, just a little. “It’s good.”
Emma’s laugh was quiet, but it resonated through him like a tuning fork. “There’s the Zach I know.”
They sat in companionable silence for a while. He tracked the guard’s patrol pattern by sound and movement in the shadows. Everything normal. The island breathed around them—waves against the shore, wind in the palms, the distant cry of night birds.
Emma shifted beside him, drawing her knees up and draping her arms over them. The position made her look younger, more vulnerable. It triggered every protective instinct he possessed.
“Can I tell you something?” Her voice was soft. “Something I don’t usually talk about.”
Zach turned his attention to her, though his peripheral awareness stayed locked on their surroundings. “Yes.”
She took another sip of rum punch, as if gathering courage. “My mother had a brilliant career—she was on track to be a senior architect at one of the biggest firms in Boston. Then she had kids, and…” Emma stared out at the dark water. “She stopped. Put all of it aside to raise us. She never complained, never acted unhappy. But I remember my aunt commenting on how my mom had sacrificed for her family, and then I found her old portfolios, full of incredible designs she’d never built.”
