Page 36

"Olivia, no, stop!"

My voice was lost in the wind, a useless plea vanishing into the tropical air. I watched helplessly as my daughter's figure disappeared out the door of the resort’s main house. Marcus had stormed out seconds before her, a whirlwind of anger and desperation. Olivia yelled that she could stop him, and I was too late to block her way.

Then I heard the shots—crisp and too close—shattering the illusion of paradise.

My heart hammered against my ribcage, each beat spelling out Olivia's name in pure fear. Time slowed to a crawl; the sound of gunfire echoed off the palm trees, drowning the usual serenity of the island in complete chaos.

I sprinted forward past the infinity pool, where once sunbathers lounged in blissful ignorance. Now, it was a chaotic mess of screams. Training kicked in, and my heart rate spiked as adrenaline surged through my veins. The warm breeze that had felt welcoming upon arrival now whipped at my face with unforgiving haste.

"Move!" I barked at a cluster of guests frozen in shock. They scattered, my path clearing as I wove expertly among them. My blazer billowed behind me, an unwanted cape in this real-life horror show.

"Have you seen a teenage girl, short hair, blue T-shirt?" I demanded, grabbing the arm of a staff member who looked like he might faint. The man pointed frantically toward the beachfront bungalows. I didn't waste a breath on thanks, already darting away.

I skirted a toppled trolley of champagne flutes, the shattered glass crunching underfoot. With every turn, every shouted command, I became less of the composed agent and gave in to the primal protectiveness of a mother.

"Olivia!" I called again, voice raw.

The echo of my own desperation rang loud in my ears as I pushed through the manicured hedges that now seemed more like barriers than decorations. Each stride carried me further into the nightmare. More shots were fired. The fearful screams urged me forward.

Please be okay, Olivia. Please. Why would you do that? Why would you run after him?

My breath came in ragged gasps, the humid air sticking to my lungs as I rounded another pavilion. There! A shadow detached itself from the chaos—Marcus Cole. The setting sun cast an ominous glow on his erratic movements, his arm jerking with each shot fired, indiscriminate and wild. Screams punctuated the air like a macabre symphony, guests scattering, their faces masks of fear and disbelief.

"Down! Get down!" I barked at a cluster of petrified staff members huddled by a service entrance, even as I kept moving. My gaze flitted across every corner, every alcove, searching for my daughter.

"Olivia!"

No answer. She should have responded by now.

Where are you?

The landscaping that once offered serene privacy now provided countless hiding spots. I scanned the area, noting every potential refuge: an overturned cabana, the shadows beneath a row of hibiscus bushes, the space behind a decorative fountain where someone small could tuck themselves away.

"Olivia!" My voice broke, betraying the terror that was creeping into the edges of my focus.

Get it together, Eva Rae. She's counting on you.

"Mom!" I spun on my heel, the sound slicing through the gunfire and hysteria.

"Here!" Fainter this time, but unmistakably Olivia. I locked onto the direction, sprinting past a grove of palm trees.

"Stay put, baby, I'm coming!"

My legs burned, and my heart pounded a relentless rhythm—one I couldn't afford to silence until I had her safe.

I rounded a corner, nearly colliding with a woman in a blood-stained sundress. Her eyes were wild, her breathing erratic.

"Where did he go?" I demanded, gripping her shoulders to steady us both.

"Th-that way," she stammered, pointing shakily. "He was shooting… at everyone."

"Stay down and find cover," I instructed, releasing her with a firm nod.

"Be careful," she whispered as if the words were torn from her lips.

The resort was unrecognizable; scenes of leisure turned into vignettes of violence. The air was thick, and the tang of gunpowder overpowered the salt breeze. Overturned lounge chairs formed an obstacle course that I navigated with grim determination while panic raged in my heart.

"Olivia!"

My throat was raw, but I couldn't stop calling for her. Each overturned chair and every shattered vase had me expecting the worst, yet I prayed for the best.

A cluster of guests cowered behind a toppled tiki bar, their whispers urgent and low. I skirted around them without slowing, my senses on high alert. There was no time for reassurance or comfort; there was only the mission—find Olivia, stop Marcus.

I rounded a corner, pulse hammering in my ears, and nearly tripped over a young man sprawled across the path. Blood seeped through his fingers as he clutched at his arm, face contorted.

"Stay with me," I said, dropping to a knee beside him.

"Help," he gasped, eyes wild with shock.

"Press here, hard," I instructed, guiding his other hand to apply pressure. "It’s just a graze. You're going to make it."

I scanned the area once more for Olivia, then pushed to my feet, leaving him with a nod of encouragement. I had to move; every second was critical.

Dodging through a maze of debris, I caught a glimpse of Marcus ahead. His back was to me, fingers working frantically to reload. Time slowed as I ducked behind a stone pillar, barely breathing. Options flickered through my mind—rush him, distract him, negotiate? No, too risky with the weapon in play.

"Think, Eva," I muttered, watching his shoulders tense with each click of the ammunition. My window of opportunity was closing fast.

The pillar chilled my back through the fabric of my blazer as I crouched, heart a metronome in double time. Marcus's shadow stretched toward me, sinister and elongated on the sun-soaked ground.

A rustle to my left snapped me back to the present. A cluster of guests, their faces etched with terror, huddled like scared hatchlings beneath an overhanging palm. I darted toward them.

"Have you seen my daughter?" I barked, my voice as hard as flint. "Short hair, about this tall. Seen her?"

Their eyes flicked between each other, lips quivering, whispers frantic as a disturbed beehive. Finally, one—a woman with mascara streaks down her cheeks—nodded, jerking her head in the direction of the beach.

"She ran that way," she stammered, voice barely above the din.

"Stay down," I ordered, more bark than bite, already moving. "Keep quiet."

I wove through the chaos, the tableau of destruction imprinted behind my eyelids—every cry, every plea, a siren call to action.

The scent of gunpowder lingered in the air as I approached the beach, a mocking contrast to the tropical paradise that had turned into a hunting ground.

My legs pumped harder, each stride a silent vow.

Olivia, just hold on.

The path to the beach was a blur of green and brown, fronds whipping at my arms as I dodged through the landscaped maze. Every shout behind me and every scream tightened the air in my chest.

"Marcus!" I called out, half-hoping he'd reveal himself, half-dreading the same. No answer, but the roar of the ocean grew louder and more insistent with each step I took.

"Olivia!" I shouted her name into the wind, willing it to carry, to find her, to wrap her in safety. My heart thrashed against my ribs, a caged bird desperate for release.

The beach unfolded before me, a stretch of pristine white sand marred by the day's horrors. I scanned the horizon, every shadow, every rock, searching for her, for any sign.

Stay sharp, Eva. She's here. She has to be.

"Please," I whispered to no one, to everyone.

Let her be safe.

Sand flew beneath my feet as I emerged onto the beach, eyes darting from one potential hiding place to another. The ocean's rhythm played a deceptive lullaby against the distant staccato of gunfire.

Where are you, Olivia?

"Olivia!" My voice cut through the chaos, a blade seeking its mark.

There! A figure huddled behind a massive rock, shoulders heaving with shallow breaths. Her form was unmistakable, even from a distance—Olivia. Relief washed over me in an overwhelming wave; it took everything not to collapse under its weight. But something was wrong.

"Mom!" Her cry was a thin thread of sound.

I tore across the sand, heart hammering as fear clawed its way back up my throat. Close now, I could see the crimson stain spreading across her arm.

She'd been shot.