Page 93 of Without a Trace
“Damn, Scar,” he said, grinning. “You end up on an island like this and still look like you’re plotting a coup.”
I tilted my head. “Let’s be clear—I didn’t pick this place. A little too curated for my taste.”
He lifted his drink in mock salute. “Still beats a bunker.”
We followed a winding stretch of wooden bridges toward the villas—Maldives-style bungalows balanced above the sea. Each one came with a private pool, a stairway into the ocean, and curtains that billowed in the breeze like they belonged in some influencer’s fantasy reel.
I was assigned the center villa.
Of course I was.
Trace to the left. Alden to the right.
Naturally.
Zeke handed me a key card with no fanfare. “Stay visible. Don’t wander.”
I gave him a slow, syrupy smile. “Worried about me?”
His tone cut short. “No. Worried about what happens if you get bored.”
Fair.
Inside, the villa smelled like salt and money. I dropped my bag on the crisp white bed and stepped to the wall of glass overlooking the endless ocean.
On either side of me, I could feel them—Trace and Alden—pacing their own cages, thoughts loud enough to shake the sea.
And I smiled.
This was going to be a beautiful disaster.
Scarlett
The silence after a nap was always the worst part—waking in a strange place, lungs unsure whether to breathe easy or brace for impact.
The villa was still.
Golden light stretched through the windows, painting lines across the white sheets tangled around my legs. For a second, I stayed there—hovering in the liminal space between real and pretend.
But I wasn’t here to rest.
I peeled myself from the bed, washed my face, then stood in front of the full-length mirror, dressing for a part I hadn’t asked to play.
A linen dress slipped off one shoulder, soft and breezy. I pulled it on anyway, ignoring how wrong white felt against my skin. Lip balm. Fingers through my hair. Chin lifted. Smile rehearsed.
Play the role. Sip. Survive.
Heels on.
Then I stepped outside.
The deck below was warm wood and salt-kissed air.
Lanterns glowed along the railing, their flames swaying as the sun dropped toward the sea—spilling gold across the water in long, glistening ribbons.
There were drinks.
Too many.
