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Quinn’s distractions did the trick. The fires in the kitchen and lobby had everyone’s focus, and Kyle and Geri slipped out during the chaos.

“Be careful in the jungle,” she reminded him under her breath as they ventured into the dense trees. “Quinn and I found concertina wire out here in a few places. Just in the bushes.”

“Ugh. Of course you did,” Kyle grumbled. “Snakes and gunmen and razor wire, oh my.”

Geri stifled a laugh.

They stayed quiet after that, picking their way through the undergrowth. At least they had some moonlight; doing this in pitch black would be nearly impossible. Even the moonlight only helped so much, and they moved toward the edge of the tree line to walk along the beach as much as possible. Visibility still wasn’t great, but there was less to trip over.

Kyle halted. “Wait. Do you hear that?”

Geri stopped too, and she held her breath, listening.

Over the gentle slosh of the ocean, she heard it—a helicopter. Distant, but distinct.

“Let’s get back into the woods,” she whispered. “Just in case.”

“Good idea.” As they moved from the beach into the jungle, he asked, “Think they’re after us or Quinn?

She gulped. “Hopefully they’re after whatever decoys he put out there.”

“Let’s hope.”

They might have been in luck, too—the helicopter didn’t come any closer, and it eventually faded into the distance, heading back toward the hotel. She and Kyle stopped to listen several times, staying as still and silent as possible and listening for movement in the jungle. It helped that the birds were quiet this time of night; really the only sounds were some nocturnal animals moving around and the tide lapping at the beach.

She knew from experience just how quiet Rich’s men could be, though, so she didn’t take the relative silence for granted.

As they walked, she kept an eye on the beach, and when a familiar section came into view, she motioned for Kyle to follow her back toward the sand.

“Is this where you left the booster?” he asked.

“Yeah. Watch my back.”

While he kept an eye out for pursuers, she retraced her steps on the beach as best she could. There were some large rocks that she’d used as landmarks, but it was impossible to guess exactly where the booster had landed. She’d been struggling with the men when she’d dropped it, and it could’ve tumbled away from—

There.

The black corner stuck out of the sand, and she pulled it free. It was still intact and undamaged, just as she’d expected. It also still turned on.

“Got it,” she said as she rejoined Kyle near the trees. There, she pulled out Quinn’s phone and activated it and the booster. Just like before, the signal was strong, and she was able to do a quick search for harbormasters and other emergency numbers in the region.

And then, bingo—the U.S. Coast Guard station in San Juan. The Dutch Coast Guard in St. Martin would be closer, she guessed, but she didn’t have time to worry if they spoke English. Hopefully they could all communicate with each other and get them off this stupid rock.

She called, and the female voice on the other end was the most incredible thing she’d ever heard in her life.

“This is the Coast Guard, right?” Geri asked. “The U.S. Coast Guard?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay. I need help, and I need it urgently.”

“All right. What is your name, location, and the nature of your emergency?”

“My name is Geraldine Cole,” she said. “I’m on—I don’t even know the name of the island. There’s a place here called Faraway Resort, and I’m being held here against my will. I need help.”

“Copy that, Ms. Cole. Can you give me your coordinates?”

“Yeah. Give me a second.” Geri lowered the phone and pulled up the location tracker. She read off the latitude and longitude.

“All right. I’ve got that location pinpointed. We’re scanning the area to see if there are other crafts in the region. Can you stay on the line?”

“Yes.” Geri exhaled. “I’ve… I’ve still got some decent battery. Do you have the number in case the call drops?”

The person on the other end read the number back. “If the call drops, stand by and we’ll call you back. If you don’t hear from us within five minutes, call us.”

“Got it.” She raked a trembling hand through her hair.

Kyle watched her uneasily. “Anything?”

“They’re working on it. They’ve got our location—they’re just seeing if anything is in the area.”

He made a disgruntled noise. She understood—this was the first contact they’d had with the outside world, and their first glimmer of hope, but they were being tracked like dogs with very little space to make their escape. Patience was a difficult virtue to have.

“Ms. Cole?” the person on the other end said. “We’re making contact with a craft that’s near your location. Are you safe for the moment?”

“Uh, well… not really. We’ve managed to get away from the resort, but people are looking for us.”

“Is this a human trafficking situation?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Got it. All right, my colleague has confirmed there is a craft heading in your direction. They’re about an hour out, but they’ll make the best time they can.”

Geri closed her eyes and exhaled. “Thank God.”

“The craft is a large yacht called the Miss Prosperity . They’re coming your way at full throttle.”

“Thank you so much. I can’t stay on this line, but I’ll check back in.”

“We’ll be standing by for your call.”

They disconnected, and Geri passed the information along to Kyle.

“Well, hallelujah,” he said on a relieved sigh. “Maybe we’ll get out of this fucking place after all.”

“Let’s hope.” She looked around. “I think we need to stay in the jungle for now. Until we see signs of a boat.”

Kyle shuddered. “Snakes and gunmen and razor wire, oh my.”

The quip was funny—right up until a stick cracked under heavy weight.

Kyle and Geri both scurried into the shadows like startled rats. She wedged herself up beneath a rotting log, and Kyle disappeared from her sight into the dense foliage.

“Fucking hell,” he rasped. “You think they’ve—”

“Stay quiet,” she hissed. “Breathe. Stay down, and don’t. Move. ”

She hoped he’d heard her. Either way, he stilled and didn’t make a sound.

Elsewhere in the jungle, there were sounds. It was impossible to count how many men were searching for them. They were mostly quiet, though it was impossible to run completely silent in this kind of environment. Leaves rustled. Branches moved. Twigs broke.

Geri swallowed hard and listened, irrationally sure the men were tracking her by the sound of her thumping heart.

Quiet movement nearby set her senses on even higher alert. Close. Way too close. And too quiet to be a human—even one trained to move stealthily.

Something rustled. This time she caught the motion in her peripheral vision, illuminated faintly by the moonlight peeking through the trees. Moving only her eyes, she followed the sound and the movement.

Oh.

Fuck.

In the beginning, she’d thought the warnings about venomous snakes on the island were just a way of scaring people out of leaving the hotel.

The reptilian eyes fixed on her from maybe a foot away from her arm strongly suggested otherwise.

Lit by the moon, it was unsettlingly easy to see. It was big—at least three or four feet—and she suddenly wished she’d retained all the signs of venomous versus non-venomous snakes. She’d hiked in places with all kinds of snakes, and she’d only made a half-assed attempt to internalize those details because she’d carelessly thought she’d never have to worry about it.

Was the triangular head shape indicative of a dangerous snake? Or was that a round head? For the life of her, she couldn’t remember if the slit-shaped pupils were a bad sign—mostly because she was too unsettled by being close enough to a snake to notice anything about its eyes.

The snake watched her as it slithered under a bush, its body steadily pulling into a coil. Its forked tongue darted out. Again. The creature was aware of her and checking her out, but she didn’t know enough about serpentine body language to judge its next move. Or enough about snake behavior to know if this type of snake—whatever type it happened to be—was more likely to strike or bail.

In the jungle around her, sticks cracked. Bushes rustled. The snake drew back, tensing as if the noise made it nervous. Its eyes stayed focused on Geri.

“Oh, fuck,” Kyle murmured from his hiding place. “They’re gonna find us.”

Geri pressed her lips together. She wanted to whisper to him to stay calm. She wanted to reach out and touch him. Reassure him somehow.

But that could give away both of their positions. And provoke the snake.

Another stick broke, the sound coming from unnervingly close by.

Kyle was vibrating now, the leaves and undergrowth around him rustling with his movement.

“Kyle,” she said, cringing when the snake twitched. “Stay down. Don’t move.” She paused. “ Breathe , Kyle.”

He made a sound she couldn’t quite parse. A mix of acknowledgment and fear, she thought. Definitely some panic.

“Fan out,” a voice echoed off the trees, seeming to come from everywhere. “There’s only so many places they can go.”

Kyle pushed out a shuddering breath.

Another stick cracked.

Then, before Geri could try for more quiet reassurance, Kyle flew out of his hiding spot and ran.

Geri clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. The snake, in that moment, was a blessing in disguise—when it bristled, she stilled, not even daring to breathe for fear of provoking it further.

All around her, the jungle erupted into chaos. The men pursuing them were running now, shouting at Kyle and at each other. Geri wanted to scream at him to run, run, fucking run—he’d already blown his cover, so for the love of God, run —but those eyes fixed on her kept her frozen. Her vision was starting to cloud, so she let herself exhaled painfully slowly before drawing in an even slower breath. Her lungs screamed and her head spun, but that damn snake was still—

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Someone screamed, and after a second, it registered as Kyle’s voice. That wasn’t just fear—that was pain. Because God knew Geri had become well-acquainted with the difference since she’d come to this fucking island.

He screamed and screamed, and the sound didn’t get any weaker. Wherever he was, wherever he’d been shot, Kyle was in agony.

She squeezed her eyes shut. There was nothing she could do to help him. Just like there’d been nothing she could do for Eric, Lynette, Art, and everyone else who’d been murdered as part of this sadistic game.

Crack!

Kyle’s screams went silent.

Geri exhaled and put her forehead down on the damp ground. She was vaguely aware of the snake’s agitated movements, but in that moment… who the hell cared?

“The woman can’t be too far,” someone shouted. “Fan out and look for her.”

Her pulse sped up again. If they found her, they might shoot her. But they might also take her back to Rich.

Visions of Quinn, battered and beaten after his second escape attempt, flickered through her mind, and she shuddered. She had to keep eluding these men.

She started to push herself up, but the snake jumped, reminding her it was there. It didn’t strike, but it was poised to react somehow. Maybe biting, maybe fleeing; she had no idea.

She drew back as slowly and silently as she could, trying not to make any sudden moves or jostle any plants that might give away her position. She concentrated on staying still. On staying quiet. On staying hidden.

On somehow staying sane—or close to it—while she was pursued by men employed by a murderous psychopath.

And then…

All she heard was her own heartbeat.

As that slowed a little, she could hear the disinterested slosh of the tide.

No voices. No movement. No sticks breaking.

In the little crevice where she was hiding, something rustled. She lifted her head, and the snake was slipping away into the bushes, its coil unraveling into a single scaled ribbon that slipped into the undergrowth.

Geri exhaled. Then, she emerged from her hidey hole. She stayed low and looked around. From here, she had a decent view of the beach, and there wasn’t a soul in sight. She couldn’t even see Kyle’s body, though that could’ve been lying anywhere.

The men pursuing her were gone.

Or maybe hiding within the trees, waiting for her to move?

Because they couldn’t possibly have given up that easily. Could they?

She felt around in the dense foliage until she found a good-sized tree limb. Then she heaved it like a spear into the jungle. It bounced off a tree with an audible crack before landing noisily in the bushes below.

Nothing reacted. Nothing moved.

She waited a moment, then did it again, hurling a branch in another direction.

Nothing reacted. Nothing moved.

With some cautious relief, she crept closer to the edge of the trees, peering around in the darkness for any sign that she wasn’t alone.

The whole jungle was quiet. So was the beach.

Heart still racing, she ducked in between a couple of trees and she turned on the phone again. The booster picked up a strong signal, and she called the Coast Guard station again.

“Your ride is about twenty minutes out,” the man on the other end assured her. “Where on the island are you?”

She gave him a rough idea of where she was—on the northern coast of the island, maybe three miles west of the hotel.

“They’re on their way,” he said. “Hang in there.”

And right on cue, about twenty minutes later, the moon picked out a shape out on the water, and her heart stopped.

A boat.

A yacht .

Someone on the deck was shining a searchlight toward the shore, and she thought she saw two men on the deck, peering around with binoculars.

Was this the boat that had come to help her? Or one from Rich’s fleet?

She cautiously ventured out to get a closer look. With every step, she calculated how close she was to the trees; it would still be a hell of a sprint, but if the boat turned out to be hostile, she could make a run for it. She might even make it.

They could be friendly, though, and they were her only bet for getting off this island.

One looked right at her, and he waved. She waved back as she inched toward the shore. Was it the right boat?

God, please, let it be the right boat…

And as it came closer, the moonlight off the water lit up the dark letters on the hull— Miss Prosperity .

Geri almost cried with relief. She looked up and down the beach and didn’t see any sign of life except the towering hotel in the distance.

That didn’t mean hostiles weren’t hiding in the jungle, though, so she hurried toward the shore. She wasn’t about to put these men in any more danger than she had to.

She splashed into the water, ignoring the sting of salt in her myriad scrapes and cuts. She tripped and stumbled over unseen rocks, but her shoes at least kept her from tearing up her feet. When it became too deep to run well, she swam, muscles screaming with fatigue as she tried to close the distance to the boat as fast as she could.

When she reached it, two of the men waited for her on the stern, and they helped her up and off the ladder.

As soon as she was solidly on the boat, Geri tumbled onto her knees, her legs refusing to hold her up anymore. She couldn’t help it—she started sobbing.

Through the bone-deep relief, though, she was aware that she wasn’t out of danger.

“We have to go. We have to—” She waved toward the horizon. “Get away from this island. They’ve got guns, helos…” Hugging herself against a deep chill, she gritted out, “I don’t think they’ll hesitate to kill you guys. We have to go!”

One of the men offered her a rough brown blanket. “We’ve got it under control, don’t you worry.”

“Okay. And there’s… There’s another person. Another one who escaped. I don’t know where—”

“They found him too,” the man said.

Her head snapped up. “Quinn? They found Quinn?”

“Don’t know the name, but I heard on the radio—someone else got picked up.”

All the air rushed out of her lungs and her shoulders sagged. “And he’s alive? He’s okay?”

The man nodded. “He’s safe.”

“Oh, thank God…”

A moment later, the engines fired up. The boat eased back into motion.

As the craft picked up speed, Geri stared at the island, watching the lights illuminating the hotel’s familiar shape getting smaller and smaller.

Then she sat back against the bulkhead, and she closed her eyes as she let some more tears fall. “Oh my God.” She shivered violently as if she’d just been pulled from icy waters instead of something warm and tropical. “I am so glad you guys found me.”

“It’s all good.” A crewman crouched beside her and offered a bottle of water. “We’ve got you, all right? Just relax for a bit.”

She nodded, and with some effort, she cracked open the water bottle. She was trembling so bad she almost spilled the water. As the boat bounced over waves, she drank the water and tried to compose herself.

All the while, she kept expecting gunfire. Or a helicopter and then gunfire. A mortar or something. Hell, a fucking drone. God only knew what Rich Price had at his disposal to keep his captives where he wanted them.

The crew of this boat—fuck. What if they were killed trying to rescue her? What if she had just lured them to their doom?

But no one came after them. No helicopters. No boats. No bullets.

They just cruised off into the night, undisturbed and unhindered, leaving that island on the horizon where it belonged.

The men helped her into the boat’s enormous cabin and sat her in a plush chair in the living area. She drank water and kept the blanket tight around her shoulders. The air around her was hot and humid, but she was cold from the inside out. All the fear and adrenaline of her time at Faraway Resort were crashing, and she couldn’t stop shivering.

It was over. Someone had saved her. Someone else had picked up Quinn.

For the first time since her private jet had touched down on that airstrip…

Geri was safe.