CH 109
“This is private property.”
I whirl around, my heart jumping into my throat. The man stands at the top of the stairs, arms crossed over his chest. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, with sun-weathered skin and salt-and-pepper hair that gives him an air of quiet authority.
He’s wearing a crisp linen shirt tucked into khaki shorts, the kind of outfit that screams casual wealth. His piercing gaze darts between me and Wake, lingering on our luggage before settling on my face.
“Oh, we were just—” I begin, my voice faltering.
“We were told to come here,” Wake interrupts, stepping forward. His tone is calm, neutral, but there’s an edge to it that makes me wince. “Tyler sent us.”
The man’s expression doesn’t change, but I catch the subtle shift in his posture, the way his shoulders relax just a fraction. He studies Wake for a moment longer, then looks at me, his sharp gaze softening slightly.
“Tyler, huh?” he says, his voice carrying a faint note of skepticism. He steps onto the deck fully, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Guess that means you’re in the right place after all.”
I blink, caught completely off guard. “Wait… so this is the B&B?”
The man’s lips twitch, not quite a smile but close. “Something like that.” He gestures toward the bungalow behind us. “Welcome to paradise.”
I glance at Wake, who raises an eyebrow as if to say, See? Told you so. Ignoring him, I turn back to the man. “You’re serious? This is where we’re supposed to stay?”
He shrugs. “If Tyler sent you, then yeah. You’re supposed to be here.”
I glance at the bungalow again, taking in the pristine deck, the open windows, the plunge pool glistening in the fading light. It’s surreal, like we’ve stumbled into someone else’s dream. “It’s just… a little more than I expected.”
The man chuckles, the sound low and easy. “Tyler’s got a flair for hospitality. You’re lucky he likes you.”
Wake steps past me, his eyes scanning the property again. “Are you the owner?”
The man shakes his head. “Caretaker. The owner’s out of town for a while, but Tyler lets me know when guests are coming through.”
“And what kind of guests?” Wake asks, his tone cautious.
The man hesitates, his gaze flickering between us. “The kind who don’t ask too many questions.”
Wake stiffens slightly, but I step in before the tension can escalate. “Thank you for letting us stay,” I say quickly, forcing a smile. “We really appreciate it.”
The man nods, his expression unreadable. “It’s no problem. Make yourselves comfortable. You’ll find everything you need inside.”
With that, he steps back down the stairs and disappears around the side of the bungalow, leaving us standing on the deck in stunned silence. I let out a shaky breath and glance at Wake.
“Well,” I say, forcing a smile. “I guess we’re home for now.”
Wake turns and strides into the bungalow with a confidence that makes me wince. He’s already moving toward the open kitchen, his sharp eyes scanning the polished counters and sleek appliances as if assessing a battlefield.
I follow reluctantly, glancing over my shoulder toward the empty deck and the quiet water beyond. Something about this setup feels…off.
Wake stops abruptly in the living room, turning in a slow circle as he takes in the space. The bungalow is undeniably gorgeous—gleaming hardwood floors, vaulted ceilings with exposed beams, and floor-to-ceiling windows that flood the room with the last golden rays of the setting sun.
It’s all sharp angles and modern luxury softened by touches of island charm: a woven rug here, a potted fern there. Even the air smells expensive—sea salt mingled with the faint aroma of tropical fruit from a decorative bowl on the coffee table.
“As far as human accommodations go, I prefer Hiro’s home. This one looks too much like the Engima compound,” Wake says flatly, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.
I snort despite myself.
He raises an eyebrow. “You disagree?”
I cross my arms, surveying the opulent room. “This place is a hell of a lot nicer than anything Enigma could dream up, let alone give to one of their prisoners. Which begs the question—why are we allowed to stay here?”
Wake shrugs, already moving toward the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. “It is as the caretaker said. Tyler sent us, so this is where we belong.”
His nonchalance makes my stomach twist. “Sure, but doesn’t that seem strange to you?” I press, trailing after him. “The guy who operates this real estate gold mine didn’t even bother to ask how long we plan to stay. Usually, you need an ID, two forms of payment, and maybe a character reference just to get a place like this for the night.”
Wake pauses in the doorway to a spacious bedroom, turning to face me. His expression is calm, almost bemused. “The owner has faith that we will pay. And if we do not, then the owner’s faith was misplaced, and he is a fool.”
I gape at him. “That’s not how things work in the human world, Wake.”
He takes a deliberate step toward me, his towering frame suddenly feeling much closer than it did a moment ago. “I am not human, Phoebe. And one day you’ll come to terms with the fact that neither are you.”
I open my mouth to argue, but before I can get a word out, he cups my face in his hands and kisses me. It’s slow, deliberate, and entirely too effective at short-circuiting my thoughts. When he finally pulls back, his eyes lock onto mine, their intensity grounding me in a way that both frustrates and reassures me.
“If anything goes awry here, I will sense it long before it reaches us,” he says. “And when I do, I will make it regret ever drawing its first breath.”
There’s a part of me that wants to scoff, to remind him that this isn’t the ocean, that the rules are different here. But the conviction in his voice makes me pause. It’s not arrogance—it’s certainty, as unshakable as the ground beneath my feet. And maybe, just maybe, I need that right now.
“Until then,” he continues, his thumb brushing lightly over my cheek, “take your own advice, Phoebe. Relax.”
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