Page 86 of Beyond Protection
He moved while the woman lowered her phone and looked directly at me.
She smiled. A clinical expression. The smile of someone gathering data.
She turned and walked toward the stairs.
I followed. I pushed through the crowd. Gray coat ahead. Eamon behind her. Michael closing from the left.
She reached the stairs and started down.
My phone buzzed. Once. Twice. Insistent.
I kept moving.
The stairs were packed. I squeezed past at least a dozen people, earning dirty looks.
Lower deck. Bathrooms left, gift shop right.
No gray coat.
Eamon stood near the bathrooms. Michael at the gift shop.
She was gone.
My phone buzzed again.
I pulled it out—unknown number.
My hands shook.
A photograph. Taken tonight, minutes ago. Close enough to see the grain in Eamon's jacket, the way his hand curved against my jaw, and the precise moment my eyes closed—surrendering.
She'd caught me being honest.
She'd stolen it and made our intimacy hers to document.
Below the image:
He can't keep you safe. Only I can. I've prepared everything. The restoration protocol is ready. No more waiting. —V.K.
The boat lurched. Eamon joined me. "What?"
I turned the phone.
His jaw tightened. "When?"
I checked the timestamp. "Two minutes ago."
We were still on the boat. She was still here. Close enough to photograph us, close enough to send messages, and close enough to touch.
It wasn't distant surveillance anymore. She was close enough for this to be a rehearsal—the final stage before execution of the plan.
Michael appeared. "Lost her at the bathrooms. Three exits. Could've gone anywhere."
"She sent this." I showed him.
He read it. "Timestamp says she's on board."
"I know."
