Page 184 of Heart of Frost and Scars

“I put together a solid team and trust them completely. Plus, the travel is temporary. Once the program is fully implemented and the initial phase ends, I’ll spend more time here to oversee everything personally.”

“You need to communicate the security situation to the entire trauma team here.” Monty rubs his jaw, his expression pensive. “I want to be in daily contact with whoever is in charge while you’re gone.”

“I understand.” Rhett nods.

“Thank you, both of you,” I say, “for arranging the security measures.”

“If you ever feel unsafe, please let us know.” Rhett extends a hand. “Welcome back, Frankie.”

I shake it, smiling through my nerves. “It’s good to be back.”

After a round of goodbyes with the hospital staff, Monty and I leave the hum of the trauma unit behind and step outside. The shadows in the parking lot hover in my periphery, but with Monty’s hand on my back, I feel safe.

We return the hypercar to his garage and catch a ride with his chauffeur, Kai, back to the dock.

As Monty and I step onto the boardwalk leading to the yacht, an eerie silence blankets the night.

His hand remains firmly and reassuringly pressed to my lower back, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.

My ears prick at every sound, my eyes darting in every direction. The feeling of being watched follows me all the way to the yacht.

The security guard stationed at the entrance stands at attention, his face impassive.

“All good, Stanley?” Monty asks as we board.

“Yes, Mr. Novak.”

Monty quickly pulls the lines from the dock cleats and prepares to depart. I kick off my heels and lean against the taffrail, watching him work.

“I’ll get the last one.” As I bend down to free the line, I glimpse something out of the corner of my eye. Something that shouldn’t be there.

A dark blob sits on the dock beside the cleat.

My heart lurches.

“Wait.” I spin toward Monty, grabbing his arm. “Do you see that?”

He follows my gaze, his eyes narrowing.

“What the—?” He motions for me to stay and takes off toward the gangway.

Fuck that.

I race after him, ignoring his glare as we approach the strange object.

A few feet away, my breath hitches.

The moonlight glints off something metallic.

A fillet knife.

Then the rest comes into view.

A severed human hand.

With the palm down and fingers splayed, a knife plunges through it, pinning it to the wooden dock.

Attached to the blade is a note, undoubtedly written to me.

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