She recognized the handwriting.
Her heart did a strange little flip as she picked it up and unfolded it. The paper was thick, expensive, the kind the resort used for formal correspondence. The message was simple:
The heart has chosen well.
No signature. None needed.
Emma stood still, read the words again, then a third time. Ana-Luz had left this for her. Had known—somehow—what had happened. Or at least what it meant.
She thought of how the Windstone dissolved in her palm. Of the way the wind answered her command. Of the way Zach had looked at her in the aftermath, like she was something both familiar and new.
She read it again.
The heart has chosen well.
A small smile touched her lips. She folded the note and slipped it into her pocket; its weight settled against her hip like a talisman.
She continued toward the conference room.
The door was open when she arrived, voices drifting into the hallway: Nick’s steady baritone, David’s quicker cadence, the slight electronic echo of Kate and Lena on a video call.
Emma paused in the doorway, taking in the scene.
Nick stood by the window, arms crossed, his attention on David as he gestured at something on his tablet. The giant monitor mounted to the wall displayed Kate in her home office on Mimosa Cay, her chocolate-brown hair pulled back, expression focused. Beside her in a separate video window, Lena lounged in what was clearly a hotel room somewhere, a coffee cup in hand and an amused smirk on her face.
And Zach?—
Zach stood apart from the others, near the back wall, his posture relaxed but alert. His eyes snapped to her the instant she appeared, his gray-blue gaze locked onto hers with an intensity that made her pulse skip.
“Emma,” Nick straightened. “Good. We’re reviewing preliminary reports.”
She stepped inside; the door closed behind her. “What’s the damage?”
“Minimal,” David answered. He turned his tablet toward her, displaying an itemized list. “Landscaping took the worst of it—several palms will need support structures, and we lost two young trees near the north beach. Some minor flooding in low-lying areas, but drainage systems handled it well. No structural damage to any buildings.”
She nodded, scanning her copy of the report. It could have been so much worse. “And the bomb?”
Nick’s expression hardened. “Recovered and neutralized. Marcus's little surprise never had a chance to deploy.”
“Only the one?”
“Yes,” Zach confirmed from behind her. His voice was low, measured. Warm. “We swept the entire property twice. Nothing else.”
Emma glanced back at him and caught the edge of something in his eyes—satisfaction, maybe, or grim approval—before turning back to the others.
“Staff?” Nick asked.
“All accounted for,” Emma said. “Everyone followed lockdown protocols. No injuries, no panic.”
“So what’s the timeline for resuming operations?” Kate asked from the screen, leaning forward. “When are you coming home?”
“Staff returns to normal schedules tomorrow,” Emma slipped into planning mode. “Today is recovery and assessment only—skeleton crew for essential services. Guest bookings don’t start for another two weeks, so we have time to complete repairs and implement any additional security measures.”
“Speaking of which,” David glanced toward Zach. “We need to discuss protocol updates. Now that we know how far Marcus was willing to go?—”
“Already handled,” Zach cut in, tone flat, brooking no argument. “Perimeter sensors will be upgraded, patrol patterns randomized, and I’m implementing a secondary verification system for all supply deliveries.”
Emma bit back a smile. That was pure Zach—three steps ahead, always moving.
