Page 78 of Knot a Thief

Surrounding the house, palm trees sway gently in the breeze, their fronds casting shadows across the meticulously manicured gardens.

I can make out vibrant splashes of bougainvillea climbing the walls, their pink and purple flowers a stark contrast against the white facade.

To the east of the main house, there must be a large pool area. I can’t see it, but the sun shimmering on the water casts a sparkling dance on the villa’s walls.

Further down, closer to the shoreline, I see a private dock jutting out into the crystal-clear waters. An enormous, sleek mega yacht is moored there, its polished surface reflecting the sunlight.

Anger stirs in my gut as I look at it. Realizing it’s the vessel that came perilously close to our smaller cruiser in the S’Arenal marina.

They’d been watching her.

As I pan across the island, I notice a series of smaller buildings scattered around the property. They could be guest houses, staff quarters, or something else entirely. Each blends seamlessly with the main house and the natural landscape.

My heart races as I spot movement on one of the upper balconies. A figure emerges, and even from this distance, I’d recognize that silhouette anywhere. Ava. She leans against the railing, looking out towards the sea. Is she searching for me?

Planning her escape? No doubt.

My heart thumps against my rib cage and just as I’m about to lower the binoculars, another figure joins her on the balcony.

Tall, broad-shouldered. The man I now know is Max Montgomery. I watch, my grip tightening on the binoculars, as he places a hand on her shoulder.

“Get your hands off her,” I growl to myself.

Blood thrashes in my ears.

But to my surprise and dismay, Ava doesn’t pull away.

I force myself to keep watching, reminding myself that Ava is clever. This must be part of her plan. It has to be. Because the alternative is too painful to contemplate. She wouldn’t.

But we always had an agreement if an alpha ever took her. She would do what she needed to until I rescued her.

Not that the memory of that conversation helps.

She’s an omega, and she never truly knew how she’d feel if the situation ever came to fruition.

And it’s the alpha whose hands are on her shoulders as he talks in her ear.

I’m a beta, not that my love for her is any less.

I may not be an alpha, but the memory of her scent when she was in her heat lingers, taunting me with what I’ve lost.

As they retreat into the house, I lower the binoculars, my mind racing. The island is a fortress, but every fortress has its weak points. And I’m going to find them, no matter what it takes.

Anger bubbles up inside me, directed not at Ava or even Max, but at me. I should have protected her better. I should have found a way.

The memory of Silas’ gun pointed at my face flashes through my mind, and I shake my head, trying to dispel it. I know, logically, that I never had a choice. But logic does little to ease the guilt that weighs on me.

I slump in my chair with my binoculars in my hand. What if she thinks I failed her? What if she’s giving them a chance?

Ten minutes later, I stop wallowing and get back to my plan. I rush into the cabin and adjust the listening device, hoping to pick up any information that might help me rescue her. The crackle of static fills the air, and then I hear her.

“... beautiful day, isn’t it?” Ava’s voice comes through, clear as a bell.

My heart leaps at the sound.

I scramble to the side of the boat, binoculars in hand. There she is, walking along the cliff top, not too close to the edge.

My breath catches in my throat. She’s as beautiful as ever, but something’s off.

---