Page 91 of Without a Trace
Alden was still at the bar, pouring with the focus of a man trying not to explode. Zeke hadn’t moved. And Trace… Trace was all restraint and coiled heat.
And Scarlett?
She was the match they were all pretending not to strike.
I sat forward, elbows on my knees. “You know, if this ends with you running the place, I’m not even gonna be surprised.”
She blinked. “What?”
I smirked. “Just saying. You’ve got queen energy.”
Trace made a low sound that might’ve been a warning—or a growl.
Scarlett turned away, but the corners of her mouth lifted.
And for a second, the air felt almost easy.
Almost.
But I knew better.
Because I knew where we were going.
And I knew what was waiting when we landed.
Scarlett
Icouldn’t sit still.
The cabin felt too quiet. Not peaceful—uneasy. My skin itched with restlessness, the leather of the seat suddenly too stiff, the hum of the jet too loud. I unbuckled and stood, ignoring Trace’s glance as I stepped into the aisle.
Alden was half-asleep across from us, mouth parted slightly like he was dreaming of something wicked. Rhett had headphones in, bobbing his head to whatever song he wasn’t going to share. Kane looked up from a deck of cards he’d been shuffling for no one, eyebrows raised as he was waiting to see what I’d do next.
I moved toward the back of the cabin. The lighting shifted here—cooler, dimmer. Shadows hugged the corners, and every step I took felt like it echoed.
Zeke sat near the far end, arms crossed, a file open on the tray in front of him. His posture was too relaxed as he was looking out the window.
I hesitated. Then dropped into the seat across from him.
He didn’t flinch.
“You planning to stare at clouds the whole flight?” I asked, voice low.
His lips curved—barely. “Better than staring at you.”
I scoffed. “Charming.”
He looked at me then. Fully. As if he was dissecting something he hadn’t finished labeling yet. “You’re restless.”
“No shit.”
Silence fell between us. It didn’t settle. It sharpened.
With hesitation, I broke the silence. “I’m not asking to read the classified files. But where are we going? Why does everyone keep acting like this is some final act?”
Zeke's mouth thinned. “It’s an island. Private. Locked down. Nobody gets in or out unless we say so. You’ll be trained. Watched. Protected.”
“Watched,” I repeated. “You all keep saying that like it’s a good thing.”
