bChapter /bb203 /b

bChapter /bb203 /b

bOLIVIA’S /bPOV

I raised an eyebrow at what Damien had just said, trying to keep my tone calm, “What do you mean?” I asked, pausing my paddling bmid/b–stroke.

For a second, he didn’t reply. Instead, he kept tugging and twisting the paddle, his jaw tightening with each movement. It didn’t look like bwhatever /bbhad /bcaught it was all that heavy, but it was clear he wasn’t handling it the right way – and thest thing I wanted was for him to panic and btip /bthe boat over.

“Slow down,” I urged, trying to steady my voice so it wouldn’t sound like an order. I could already see the frustration building on his face, the kind bthat /bmade people act recklessly. “Instead of forcing it, use your hand to feel around and gently free it. You’ll risk less rocking that wayb.” /b

Damien let out a sigh, shoulders slumping a little, before giving me a small nod. For a moment, I wondered if he realized how tightly he’d been bgripping /bthe paddle, almost as if it had personally offended him.

I watched as he dipped his hand carefully into the water, his brow furrowed. “Please let there not be crocks,” he muttered under his breathb, /brepeating bit /bba /bfew times like a prayer.

Augh nearly bubbled out of me. “Are you serious right now?” I teased, shaking my head. “There are no crocodiles in ake, Damien.”

He shot me an embarrassed nce, rolling his eyes slightly, but it softened when he turned back to the water. His hand moved around, feeling under the surface. “Okay, I think I’ve found what’s caught it,” he said a few secondster, his voice sounding more relieved than triumphant.

“Alright, what is it?” I asked, leaning forward slightly, though careful not to tilt the canoe too much.

“It feels like iron… like a chain or something,” Damien answered. “It’s wrapped around the paddle de pretty tight.”

“Can you get it off?” I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral even though I could see how awkwardly he was bent forward, half his weight leaning over bthe /bside.

“I’m trying,” he grumbled. “But it’s a bit difficult. It won’te loose easily.” His voice carried that hint of frustration againb, /bmixed with stubbornness.

On any other day, I might have just told him to let it go. After all, we could still paddle back to shore with mine–but losing it meant being banned from theke, and given how hard it had been to find a quiet spot like this, I wasn’t willing to risk that. And I could already see Damien pushing himself more than he should, his face tense.

He wasn’t exactly the type for rough outdoor tasks, not because he was weak, but because he hadn’t needed to be. And right now, we didn’t need to make this moreplicated.

I slipped my phone from my pocket, its screen reflecting the sun briefly, and tapped the small distress button. It was discreet–just a quiet signal that would bring my bodyguards over in another boat, carrying tools if needed.

“There’s ino /ineed to keep forcing it,” I told him gently. “I’ve already called my bodyguards. They should be here in a few minutes–they’ll bring another boat, and they’ll untangle it properly.”

Damien nced at me, half relieved, half embarrassed, as if he felt like he was giving up too soon. “I swear, it sounded like such an easy n when I thought of it this morning,” he murmured, sitting back properly in the canoe and wiping his wet hand on his shorts.

I chuckled softly, my paddle resting across my knees. “You’ve done better than you think,” I told him. “At least you didn’t panic and bflip /bbthe /bwhole boat”

Heughed too, though it sounded ba /blittle tired. “Guess I’m still learning. Next time, remind me to choose a pic instead.”

A breeze stirred the water, theke’s surface shimmering under the sun. We floated quietly for ba /bmoment, the only sounds being bthe /bbdistant /bbchirping /bbof /bbirds and the gentlep of water against the canoe’s sides.

A few minutester, I heard the unmistakable whir of an engine from behind Damien. I didn’t need to look back bto /bknow bwho /bbit /bwasb–/bit bcould /bbonly /bbbe /bthem.

b1/3 /b

bChapter /bb203 /b

bMy /bbbodyguards /bwere balready /bbspeeding /btoward us on a jet engine boat, their bck /bsuits bcatching /bglints of sunlight as bthey /bcut across bthe /bwater, V them bapproach/b, I felt the usual flicker of reassurance. This was exactly bwhy /bI always kept them closeb, /beven if bsome /bbpeople /bcalled bit /bexcessive. They k?t how bto /bbthink /bbquickly/b, react even faster, and handle situations like this—or worse- -without panicking.

b“/bbHuh/bb, /bthey got here faster than I thought,” Damien said, ncing over his shoulder at the approaching boat. His voice carried ba /bmixture of surprise and

reliefb. /b

b“/bThey know what they’re doing,” I replied, my gaze still on the boat.

Momentster, one of the bodyguards maneuvered closer, the boat rocking gently from the wake. He stood tall, his voice rising over the gentle p bof /bwater against the hull. “Is everything alright, ma’am?” he called, scanning me quickly for any signs of distress.

“Yes,” I replied calmly. “We’re ready to head back, but his paddle got stuck on something in the water.”

The bodyguard leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as he peered at the paddle Damien still held awkwardly. Then, without missing a beat, he bgave /bba /bcrisp nod, removed his suit jacket, and pulled on a life vest. The way he moved–methodical, confident–was something I’d seen so many timesb, /byet it balways /bfelt oddly reassuring.

Before Damien could even say another word, the bodyguard slipped into the water with barely a ssh, disappearing under the surface as he swam

toward our canoe.

Damien’shot me a nervous nce, his grip tightening on the edge of the boat. “You sure he’s okay down there?” he asked, voice pitched slightly higher than usual.

“He’s trained for this,” I assured him, though I couldn’t help but feel the faintest flicker of curiosity myself. What could possibly be holding a simple paddle this long?

After what felt like a minute but was probably less, my bodyguard surfaced, wet hair stered to his forehead. “Ma’amb,/bb” /bhe began, his tone uncharacteristically serious, “it looks like you’re going to need toe aboard our boat for now. This is going to take some time to free up.”

I raised an eyebrow, my suspicion sharpening. “It’s just a chain tangled around it, isn’t it? What could be soplicated?”

His expression darkened slightly, water dripping from his chin. “It’s not just a chain, ma’am. The chain is hooked onto something belowb… /band that something appears to be wrapped in a body bag.”

For a second, silence hung heavy between us. Even Damien froze, paddle still half–raised, as the words sank in.

“A body bag?” I repeated, my voice lower, more measured. My mind raced through a dozen scenarios, none of them good.

“Yes, ma’am,” he confirmed. “The chain isn’t just snagged–it’s been deliberately fastened. And from what bI /bcan see, the shape definitely suggests it’s concealing… something human–sized.”

I exchanged a quick nce with Damien, who looked pale. He opened

ihis /i

mouth as if to speakb, /bthen closed it, swallowing hard instead.

“Alright,” I said after a beat, forcing my voice ito /istay steady. “We’reing over.”

Damien’s hand trembled slightly as he set down the paddle. “This… wasn’t exactly the rxing morning I had in mind,” he muttered, half to himself.

“Neither did Ib,/bb” /bI admitted quietly.

Carefully, we shifted into the bodyguards‘ boat. Damien almost slipped, but

cushioned seat, silently counting my breaths.

one of the guards caught his arm firmly, steadying him. I settled or

From this angle, the canoe looked smaller and more fragile, floating alongside therger, sturdier security boat. The paddle Damien had bbeen /bbstruggling /bwith stuck up awkwardly, still tethered to the unseen weight below.

My bodyguard dipped below the surface again, this time armed with a small diving light and cutting tool he’d retrieved bfrom /bthe bboat/b. bHis /bbpartner/b, standing beside us, kept watch on the water, one hand on his radio, already rying the situation to the rest of our bsecurity /bbdetail /bbonshore/b.

08.10

bTue/bb, /bb29 /bbJul /b

b“/bI can’t believe this,” Damien murmured under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “A body bag? In the middle of ake?”

“New York has a way of hiding its secrets,” I replied, my tone softer than I intended.

He nced at me, concern clouding his features. “Do you think… this could be something targeted? At you, I mean.”

! shook my head, though I wasn’t sure myself. “It’s unlikely. But I don’t believe in coincidences either,” I added.

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bChapter /bb204 /b