Damian swung the cabin door open with one sharp motion.
"Get ready," he ordered, voice low but commanding. "We're almost there."
Naiara blinked, still half-asleep, then noticed the clothes laid neatly on the bed: fitted leggings, a thick sweatshirt, a windproof jacket, sturdy sneakers. He had already chosen everything for her.
"Wear these," he added, nodding toward them. "It's colder near the cave than you'd think. You'll need to move easily, no dresses, no heels."
He moved with the precision of a soldier. Black tactical pants, combat boots, high-neck shirt, a vest with hidden pockets, cap pulled low. Every item had a purpose. She couldn't help but watch him, studying the veins on his hands, the sharpness in his posture. There was something magnetic about him, something that made her trust him, even when everything else screamed danger.
The wind hit them the moment they stepped on deck.
The dawn was barely rising, pale pink spilling across the sky. Ahead, the island loomed, dark cliffs, wild brush, a half-rotted pier jutting into the water. The boat slowed, creaked, and kissed the dock. Damian reached a hand out to help her down. Their fingers brushed, just long enough to make her heart skip.
Two armed men waited for them, dressed in black, faces hidden behind tinted glasses. Their stance was trained, military.
"Mr. Caruso," one of them said. "We've been expecting you. Follow us. The Captain wants to inspect the delivery himself."
Damian didn't flinch. "Understood."
He stepped slightly ahead of Naiara, a silent barrier between her and them.
"Stay close," he murmured, voice barely audible over the wind. "And play along."
She nodded. Whatever fear trembled inside her was held back by one simple truth: she trusted him, the man she believed to be Leo.
The path climbed sharply from the shore, winding between jagged rocks and sparse trees. The air smelled of salt and wet earth. Damian kept scanning their surroundings, his mind mapping exits, angles, possibilities. Something was off. The place wasn't what he'd expected. It was larger, heavily guarded, reinforced with cameras and floodlights.
Finally, they reached a concrete structure half-buried in the cliff. The entrance gaped like the mouth of a bunker. Inside, bright lights glared against the metal walls, illuminating men with rifles and white lab coats moving in eerie harmony.
Then a tall man with silver hair approached. His smile was polite, precise, and utterly cold.
"Welcome to the island, Mr. Caruso," the man said. His tone dripped with authority. "The delivery arrived right on time. Excellent work."
That word, delivery, made Damian's stomach tighten.
He kept his face neutral, but inside, something was breaking apart. This wasn't just a stop. It was a handover. A trap.
Naiara was escorted forward. The guards began checking documents, tagging her like cargo. Damian stayed close, pretending to supervise, pretending not to care. But every motion made his pulse pound harder. His entire escape plan, his idea to hide her in the northern cave and use the secluded bay to flee, was falling apart before it had even begun.
Then the Captain turned toward him.
"Mr. Caruso," he said again, voice smooth as glass. "There's been a change of protocol. The subject will be placed in medical quarantine until the inspection is complete."
Damian stiffened. "That wasn't in the plan."
The Captain tilted his head. "Plans change. My orders come from above. Take her to the clinical wing. She'll be safer there."
Safer.
The word echoed like mockery in Damian's skull. He knew exactly what "clinical wing" meant on an island like this, containment, sedation, preparation.
Naiara looked at him, confused and afraid.
"What's happening?" she whispered.
He forced a faint smile. "Nothing you can't handle."
But his mind was already racing. He had one shot, to play along, infiltrate the facility, and find a way out before they realized he was no longer following orders.
As they walked through the narrow corridor, lights flickering overhead, Damian's pulse synced with every step. He could feel her presence beside him, her breath, her trust, and it tore him apart.
He had brought her into hell. And now, only he could get her out.