“Where is she?” He didn’t hear anything from the bedroom.
“She left for the office right before you got back. I sent the patrol guard with her.”
They ate in silence—bacon, eggs, and toast David made. Zach’s mind tracked multiple threads simultaneously: weather patterns, security vulnerabilities, backup protocols, evacuation routes if the storm exceeded projections.
And Emma. Always Emma now, a constant peripheral awareness he couldn’t shut down.
She’d be in her office now, reviewing final evacuation lists, accounting for every staff member. She’d have coffee (too muchcream, not enough actual coffee) and she’d be checking off names with that focused concentration?—
Stop.
“We got a hit on the camera review,” Nick said, breaking into his thoughts.
Zach’s attention snapped back. “The groundskeeper?”
“Yeah.” Nick pulled up an image on his laptop, rotated it toward Zach. “Southeast quadrant, near the service road. Yesterday at 1430 hours.”
The image was grainy, from one of the perimeter cameras. A man in a groundskeeper's uniform, hat tugged down, pushing a maintenance cart. Average height, average build. Nothing distinctive except?—
“He’s not ours,” Zach said.
“No.” Nick zoomed in on the ID badge clipped to the man’s belt. Even pixelated, it was wrong—the color was off, and the photo was too dark. “I ran it against Emma’s personnel database. No match.”
“Someone created a fake badge.” Zach studied the image, cataloging the details. Posture, gait, the way he kept his head down. Trained. Careful. “Professional.”
“That would be my assessment,” Nick agreed.
David stilled, his usual humor absent. “So the assassin is still on the island.”
“Or someone working with him. This man isn’t limping.” Zach’s mind was already running scenarios. Limited staff, limited places to hide. But a hurricane provided perfect cover—chaos, reduced visibility, everyone focused on survival rather than security. “We need to lock down movement. No one goes anywhere without security clearance and an escort.”
“Already implemented.” Nick closed the laptop. “I sent the protocol update an hour ago. Clay has teams doing sweeps of all non-essential buildings. If someone’s hiding, we’ll find them.”
Zach wanted to believe him, but he’d learned the hard way professionals weren’t found unless they chose to be.
“So, you told Emma.” Nick sipped his coffee, watching Zach over the rim. “About your abilities.”
Silence dropped over the kitchen like a physical weight.
“Oh, good. We’re going there,” David leaned back in his chair, studying Zach with something between surprise and approval. “I thought you’d take your secret to the grave.”
“No choice.” The words tasted like justification. “She saw me catch a crossbow bolt.”
“Right.” Nick’s smile was slight but sincere. “And the fact that you’re different around her—more present, more engaged?”
Zach’s hand tightened on his mug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Zach,” Nick’s voice gentled. Not mocking, not teasing. Genuine. “This is the first time you’ve trusted someone outside this family.”
The comment hit harder than it should have. Because it was true, and Zach couldn’t stand the vulnerability exposed.
“She’s smart,” he said carefully. “She processes information without hysteria. She asks intelligent questions. She?—”
“She matters to you,” David finished.
Zach didn’t confirm or deny. He stared at his coffee, tracking the slight tremor in his hand only someone trained to detect micro-expressions would note.
Nick leaned forward, elbows on the counter. “This is good, you know. You’ve isolated yourself for years. Kept everyone at arm’s length except us. And even us, sometimes.”
