"That means we're treating it that way, ma'am."
Nick’s fingerprints were all over that answer.
The scrub blurred past the window. The sun angle put half the track in shadow, and the dust behind us hung too long in the still air. Daniel’s hand stayed close to the radio.
The veranda was already crowded, most of the guests clustered near the doors in various states of agitation. A few half-loaded luggage carts sat abandoned near the entrance, tagged bags stacked beside them while everyone waited for permission to move. The departure board still hung by the main desk, my name visible in careful script beside a time that had already passed.
My name was still there. My exit was not.
Daniel pulled up to the entrance and cut the engine. "Stay with the group, ma'am. Someone will update you when we know more."
I stepped out before he could open my door. Heat rose off the gravel and climbed around my boots. My tank stuck between my shoulder blades. The day had barely started and was already taking liberties.
The CEOs had been denied movement for thirty-one minutes and were already one oat milk shortage away from civil unrest.
Cufflink was mid-sentence when I reached the veranda, his face flushed with the particular shade of outrage that came from being told no by people who didn't care about his net worth. Sarah, the lodge manager, stood near the entrance with her tablet clutched against her ribs, her smile too tight to survive another question.
"—doesn't matter what Mercer says!" Cufflink’s voice was reaching a pitch that usually preceded a lawsuit. "He isn't the owner. He's a glorified gatekeeper. Sarah, I don't care about 'sweeps.' I care about the fact that I’m still standing on this porch thirty minutes after my departure time."
Sarah’s smile held. Her knuckles didn’t. "Mr. Miles, the Ranger's orders are—"
"Nick already gave you his answer, Victor." I didn’t raise my voice. Sarah’s shoulders lowered two inches. "And unless you’ve picked up a tracking certification in the last five minutes, your opinion on the road’s safety is irrelevant."
He turned on me, his complexion moving from offended to medically concerning. “I don’t know what kind of…specialarrangement you have with the help, Wilder, but don’t think for a second that gives you the right to dictate my schedule. Get Mercer. Now.”
“Nick is currently keeping you from getting shot by poachers on the way to the strip,” I said, stepping into his space. “I suggest you let him work.”
I crossed to the coffee station and poured my own cup. The liquid was too hot and slightly bitter, but I held it anyway and sorted the room into categories.
Empty wicker chairs on the veranda. No Nick in the lounge. Through the glass, rangers moved between vehicles in the service yard, radios up, shoulders squared.
Sarah had both hands locked around the tablet now. Cufflink drew breath for another attack, but I didn’t give him the room.
I set my coffee down.
"Sarah." My voice carried cleanly across the veranda, cutting through his monologue. "Who needs medication from their luggage?"
Sarah blinked. "I—sorry?"
"Medication. Prescriptions. Anything time-sensitive."
Her fingers moved over the tablet. "I... I'm not sure. We didn't—"
"Check. Start there." I turned to the room, pinning Cufflink with a look that usually ended board meetings. "Victor, you have the 14:30 to London. Graham, you’re Cape Town at 15:00. Sarah already has your tail numbers. Making her repeat them won't clear the road any faster."
He adjusted his sleeve with unnecessary force, looked at me, then at the half-empty coffee cup in my hand, and finally at Graham. He looked like he wanted to argue, but Graham cleared his throat, looking at his shoes.
“The connection is tight, Juliette,” Graham muttered, eyes on his shoes. “That’s all.”
"I know it is. Which is why Sarah is prioritizing the road sweep based on your departure times, not your temper."
I looked at Naomi, who shook her head. "My return is flexible."
Owen had stopped pacing. "I was supposed to fly out with Victor."
"Then you're in the same category." I turned back to Sarah. "Two confirmed international departures. Both afternoon. Both requiring road access to the airstrip within—" I checked my watch. "—four hours maximum to allow for delays. That's your priority timeline. Everything else is preference, not emergency."
Sarah's posture shifted. The tablet came down from its defensive position. "I can work with that."
