Page 279 of Let Me In

It’s about her.

I reach into my coat.

I pull the compass from the duffel where I tucked it earlier, and turn it over in my hand. The casing is cold, worn, familiar. It points north, always. But tonight, it’s pointing home.

Back to the cabin. Back to her. Back to where my name doesn’t mean anything unless it’s on her lips. Where the word she gives me—Daddy—means more than any rank I’ve ever held.

I hold it steady for a long moment, then tuck it away. Not because I need direction, but because I already have one.

I have nothing to prove.

Only something to protect.

I breathe in once, slow, and feel it settle deep—into bone, into blood. A flicker of her voice stirs in my chest. Just one word.

Someone.

And that? That makes me more dangerous than I’ve ever been.

Because men like Lucian—men who move pawns across oceans, thinking they’re gods—

They don’t understand what happens when you give a man like me something soft.

Something sacred.

They think it makes him weak.

They think it gives them leverage.

But I don’t have pressure points anymore.

I only have her.

And I will not be moved.

I know this water.I know this kind of night. The moon is low. The tide’s with me. I’ll slip beneath the surface before anyone knows I’ve touched it.

The hour has come.

I stand slowly, body stiff but ready.

No adrenaline.

No heat.

Just breath. And clarity.

The yacht drifts in the distance, its lights dimmed now. Crew inside, still. Nothing moving on deck.

Exactly as I’d mapped.

I crouch beside the duffel. Pull it open.

One piece at a time—silent, practiced. The wetsuit’s interior drags slightly on my skin, cool and smooth like shadow. Velcro presses against my wrists. Each strap settles with a hushed snap, the kind that used to echo in briefing rooms and foreign nights.

Matte black. No straps that dangle. No reflective trim.

The gloves. The belt. The dive knife.

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