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Evie.

Ethan didn’t know who this woman was or how she was connected to Evie, but he had to find out.

“I have to go,” Ethan said abruptly.

Joyce blinked. “Huh? Where?”

Ethan was already halfway across the deck as he called back to her. “I just—I need to do something. I’m sorry, Joyce.”

“Ethan, wait!”

He didn’t know what he was doing, nor did he have a plan. All he knew was that something was happening, something he couldn't explain, and Evie, this woman, and Preston were at the center of it.

Ethan was tired of being in the dark, and he couldn't just let them disappear into that house without knowing what was going on.

That woman—whoever she was—had done something impossible. The same kind of impossible thing that had happened between him and Evie.

Everything unexplainable that had been happening to him continued to come back to Evie, every time. He couldn’t just stand here and let them disappear. Not without finding out what the hell was going on.

A crewman stood in front of the gangway, holding his hand up as Ethan approached. “Sorry sir, but Mr. Willows gave strict orders. Everyone stays on the yacht.”

Ethan could have turned back. Could have kept his head down, followed the rules, just like he always had.

Not this time.

“Sir, you⁠—”

Ethan didn't think as he pushed the crewman aside and bolted down the gangway, the crewman’s shouts fading fast behind him.

His feet hit the dock, and he ran.

Whatever was happening, whatever impossible thing connected Evie, Preston, and this woman—he was going to find out, no matter what.

Preston’s gaudy mansion loomed ahead as we walked uphill, passing through the iron gates of the Willows estate. The moon hung high in the sky, peeking out from behind the spotted cloud cover, painting the area in silver. Warm light blazed from the tall windows that scaled the front of the mansion.

The soft lull of jazz and drunken laughter faded behind us as we approached the estate. Anticipation swelled inside of me as we rounded the corner toward the back entrance to the house.

Preston’s hand pressed against my lower back, possessive and insistent as he guided me toward the large doors. My skin prickled at his touch, but I let him lead.

As we approached the doors, my heart slammed in my chest. I’d waited so long for this moment, and it was only a matter of time before I had his heart in my hand.

Tonight, it all ends.

“Let’s take this party inside…” Preston slurred, stumbling over the cobblestone path. “We can…” His fingers slid over my bare shoulder. “Be alone.”

Alone, the word was nails digging into my skull.

It’s all I’d known for the last few months. The feeling had been branded into me—all because of him.

But now, being alone was exactly what I wanted. Privacy. Seclusion. To be able to do everything I wanted, everything he deserved, without worrying about anyone stopping me.

Layne’s voice echoed sharply in my mind, Don’t go in the house. The dock, my queen. Get him to the water, further back.

You’re right…good call, I replied. A much better and fitting end for this motherfucker.

Pausing in the entryway, I turned and looked behind me, searching the area. A smaller, private dock stretched out behind us toward the water’s edge. It extended out over the Bay, lit by a lamp post on each side of the dock’s entrance, casting an amber glow onto the weathered planks.

There.