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The safe house is exactly as we left it the last time we were here—sparse furnishings draped in sheets, the air heavy with the scent of disuse and sea salt. Z has already disappeared down the hallway with Vesper, his footsteps fading on the wooden floors.

“Couch or bed?” I ask Talon, whose face has gone ashen from the short walk.

“Bed,” he admits, the single word costing him. “Need to lie down.”

I guide him toward the smaller bedroom off the main living area, helping him ease onto the edge of the mattress. He hisses through his teeth as the movement jars his injured shoulder.

“Need your meds?”

“Not yet.” He shakes his head, then gestures toward the hallway where Z took Vesper. “Stay with her tonight. She shouldn't be alone.”

I nod, understanding the unspoken concern. Vesper's vacant stare has us all on edge. “Z will set the security protocols. Get some rest.”

The floorboards creak beneath my feet as I move through the dim house. A soft glow emanates from the main bedroom, where I find Z settling Vesper onto the bed, her limbs arranged with careful precision.

“She didn’t even wake when I carried her in,” Z sighs.

“Exhaustion. Shock. Grief. Her body’s shutting down what it can’t process.”

Z’s calloused thumb traces the shadowed circle beneath her eye. I move to the opposite side of the bed, sinking down beside Vesper’s sleeping form.

Vesper shifts, whimpering in her sleep. “Alex.”

“I'll take the first watch,” Z offers, already moving toward the window to check the perimeter again. “You should get some rest.”

I don't argue. The past seventy-two hours have drained me physically and mentally. Each hour watching Vesper's silent suffering carving out another piece from my soul. I shed my jacket and shoes, stretching out beside her on the bed.

“Should we try to wake her?” I ask, watching the rapid movement beneath her eyelids. “She's dreaming.”

Z shakes his head, letting the curtain fall back into place. “Let her sleep. Reality will be waiting soon enough.”

He's right, of course. Whatever nightmare plays behind her closed eyes can't be worse than waking to the truth again. I settle deeper into the mattress, careful not to disturb her, and tryto ignore the Alex-shaped void in our lives that seems to grow larger with each passing hour.

VESPER

The waves don't carethat he's gone. They just keep coming, relentless, smacking against the shore like nothing has changed.

I dig my toes into the cold sand, watching the first golden rays of sunlight stretch across the water. My body aches from another night of restless sleep, punctuated by dreams where Alex is reaching for me from beneath the waters, his mouth forming words I can never quite hear. I'm so tired of waking up gasping, clutching at empty air.

A week. Seven days of existing in this hollow space between breathing and living.

The Coast Guard stopped searching after a few days. No body was recovered. Just scattered debris and the official designation:presumed dead. Those two words echo in my head with every heartbeat. Presumed. Dead.

But presumed isn't certain. Presumed leaves room for hope, and hope is the cruelest thing of all.

I pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them as the morning chill seeps through my thin sweater. The safe house sits behind me on the rocky outcropping, windows still dark, except for the kitchen where Talon is probably making coffee, his movements still careful around his healing shoulder.

Footsteps crunch in the sand behind me, too heavy to be Talon's, too measured to be Oscar's. I don't turn around. I don't need to.

“Thought I might find you here, moya koroleva.”

Z settles beside me, his warmth radiating against my side as he matches my posture, knees drawn up to his chest. He doesn't touch me, doesn't offer platitudes or demands. Just sits, a silent sentinel sharing my vigil.

The silence between us stretches, comfortable in its familiarity. Of the three remaining men in my life, Z understands the value of wordless company. Unlike Oscar with his careful planning or Talon with his need to fill empty spaces with comfort, Z knows when presence alone is enough.

“It's beautiful. The ocean. It shouldn't be allowed to be so beautiful right now."

Z's shoulder brushes mine, a gentle point of contact. “Nature doesn't stop for our grief.”