She leaned over my shoulder as I typed in the closest road name and adjusted the pin as far as the map would allow. When the price appeared, Mrs. Alvaro made a low sound in her throat.
“Where do you work, a Bond villain’s island?”
“Honestly?” I stared at the total. “Kind of. This is more than it usually is.”
She laughed and waved away my attempt to protest. “Put it through. You can pay me back later.”
“I can Venmo you once I get my phone.”
“You better.”
The car was twelve minutes away, which meant I spent twelve minutes standing awkwardly near her door while shepretended not to notice me vibrating out of my skin. She asked if I wanted tea. I said no. Then yes. Then no again because I was leaving soon. She poured me half a mug anyway and told me to drink it before I floated off into the ceiling.
By the time the rideshare arrived, I had managed three scalding sips and given a sincere promise to pay her back as soon as possible.
As I opened the car door, Mrs. Alvaro called from behind me, “You’ll be right, Cove.”
I really hoped she was correct.
The driver was quiet, thank God.
The car smelled like coconut air freshener and old upholstery, and the seatbelt had a twist in it that kept pressing into my collarbone. I sat in the back, my bag hugged against my chest, and watched the city thin through the dark windows.
It felt wrong to go back this way.
During the day, the route to Tobias’s estate had become familiar through Ben’s car, Ben’s voice, and Ben’s easy presence in the front seat. The morning drive had coffee, sunlight, and stories. The evening version had exhaustion, quiet music, and Ben asking if I’d eaten enough because, apparently, everyone in Tobias’s orbit had decided I was one missed meal away from collapse.
This version had none of that.
Just an unfamiliar driver, a half-working radio, and the dark pressing close to the road.
By the time we reached the private turnoff, my stomach had tightened into something small and hard.
The driver slowed at the first gate and glanced back at me. “Uh. This right?”
“Yeah.” I leaned forward, already fishing my badge from my bag. “Can you roll the window down?”
He did, so I stretched awkwardly across the back seat and tapped the badge to the scanner.
For a few seconds, nothing happened.
Then the gate began to open.
The driver muttered something under his breath that sounded like both a prayer and a curse, and I sank back into the seat with a nervous little laugh that did not make me sound at all like a competent adult.
The second gate opened too.
By then, Tobias and Ben had probably already received a dozen alerts about my entrance, and that helped calm some of my growing anxiety. Maybe one of them would be waiting at the door by the time we pulled up, confused but not upset, and I’d explain the whole thing, grab my phone, apologize approximately twelve times, and go home.
Easy.
Normal.
Fine.
The house came into view, all glass and dark stone against the night-black ocean, lit from within. After sunset, it looked less like a home and more like a foreboding piece of modern art.
The driver pulled up near the front steps. “You want me to wait?”
