“No,” Morgan shook her head, already backing away from that explanation. “No, this—this is wrong.”
Emma straightened.
“What do you mean, wrong?”
Morgan didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes flicked toward the door. The hallway beyond. Back to Emma.
“Security needs to see this.” Her voice was lower, tighter.
Emma blinked. “Morgan, it’s a piece of paper.”
“It’s a threat.” Morgan met her eyes—and this time there was no mistaking the fear in her eyes.
“You need to show this to Zach.”
“That feels like overkill?—”
“Emma,” Morgan stepped closer, voice firm. “Please.”
The word didn’t sound casual. It sounded urgent.
Emma hesitated.
Morgan had been on this island longer. Long enough to identify when something crossed from inconvenient… to dangerous.
“Fine,” Emma gave in. “I’ll mention it.”
Morgan didn’t move right away. She stared at the note one more time before refolding it.
“You should keep that,” she murmured. “Zach will want to see it.”
Emma gave a small, dismissive shrug and turned back to her desk as Morgan returned to her own, but the energy in the room had shifted. Morgan’s fingers slid over her tablet. Her attention split—half on her screen, half on the door.
Zach arrived within fifteen minutes.
Emma was in the middle of reviewing résumés when the office door opened. No knock. Just the quiet arrival of someone who didn’t ask permission.
She looked up, already knowing who it would be.
Zach filled her doorway like he filled every space—economically, efficiently, and with an alertness that suggested he’d cataloged every exit and potential threat before she’d even registered his presence.
His storm gray eyes skimmed over her, then shifted to Morgan, who stood near the filing cabinet looking guilty.
“Out,” he said. It wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t a request either.
Morgan handed the paper to him and slipped out without another word.
Zach closed the door behind her with a soft click, glanced over the note, then placed it—hernote—on Emma’s desk. He pulled out his phone and snapped a quick photo, checking it once.
Emma narrowed her eyes and frowned at Zach. “Morgan told you.”
“Morgan did the right thing.”
“Morgan overreacted.”
He ignored that, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Where did you find this?” His voice was level, professional. Thesame tone he probably used to interrogate suspects or brief his team. Emma ground her teeth together.
“Under my door this morning.”
