It went straight to voicemail.
No.
The word was sharp in her mind, edged with ice-cold realization. Zach’s phone wasneveroff. Ever. It was surgicallyattached to him—always charged, always within reach. It was part of his job, part of who he was.
Emma’s heart pounded in earnest now, a drum solo against her ribs. She spun, scanning the path behind her, the tree line, the shadows now multiplying as the light failed.
The message hadn’t been from Zach.
It couldn’t have been.
Zach wouldn’t send her out here alone with a storm coming. Wouldn’t turn off his phone. Wouldn’t be vague about something urgent. Every instinct he had was protective, cautious, thorough.
Someone lured her here. And she fell for it.
The thought arrived with absolute clarity, and with it came a surge of adrenaline so potent she felt dizzy. Her hands were steady—years of yoga breathing practice kicked in—but her mind was racing, calculating.
She needed to move. Now. Get back to?—
Movement.
A shadow detached itself from the deeper darkness of the trees behind her. Silent. Deliberate. The figure was tall, lean, dressed in dark clothing which made him virtually invisible in the failing light.
But she recognized the crossbow.
Emma didn’t think. Her body, trained through countless runs, gym sessions, and, more recently, Zach’s dawn training sessions, exploded into motion.
She ran.
Not back to the resort—he blocked the path. Forward, toward the only shelter in this direction. The cave. Solombra Cave, with its local legends and Zach’s warnings about staying out of closed areas.
Right now, closed areas were where she wanted to be.
Her sneakers found purchase on the rough terrain. Rain was falling steadily now, making the rocks treacherous. She heard nothing but the wind and her own harsh breathing; couldn’t tell if he was following or how close he might be.
The cave opening appeared like a mouth in the cliff face, blacker than the surrounding darkness. Emma bolted inside without hesitation.
The wind cut off, replaced by a profound silence that was somehow worse. The temperature dropped. She pressed herself against the coarse stone just inside the entrance, chest heaving, trying to quiet her breathing enough to hear.
She fumbled for her phone. The screen lit up, casting a pale glow in front of her. She activated the flashlight?—
It flickered once. Twice. Died.
“No, no, no,” she whispered, pressing buttons that did nothing. A dead battery, signal interference, or some combination of both. It didn’t matter. She was in absolute darkness, in a cave she’d never explored, with a killer somewhere behind her.
Think.Think.
The light might have drawn the assassin’s attention. She had to hide, to remain unseen.
Zach described it to her only yesterday, mentioning a rear chamber. Multiple chambers meant multiple ways to hide, to confuse her pursuer, to buy time until?—
Until what? No one knew she was here. No one was coming.
She pushed the thought aside and forced herself to move along the wall, her right hand maintaining contact with the damp stone while her left stretched out in front of her. She moved as quietly as possible, but every shuffle of her feet echoed.
Behind her, from the entrance?—
Footsteps.
