Miguel Moreno's villa was wrapped in an unreal silence. Not the calming kind, the kind born from fear.
Miguel paced back and forth across the living room, holding a picture of his wife between his fingers, he looked at it the way one looks at a valuable object… not a person.
His breathing was short, uneven.
His wife was missing, his most trusted man was dead and he, Miguel, the man who believed he was untouchable, was trembling.
Not out of love, not out of true concern but out of risk.
She could talk, she had seen too much and now that she was no longer under his control, Miguel realized his entire empire could collapse.
As for Naiara… he felt nothing.
Her picture was on the same shelf, a photo he hadn't looked at in years.
To him, his daughter had always been a pawn, an investment, a tool to get money, favors, power.
Merchandise.
He approached the photo, picked it up by one corner, like it was something dirty.
Barely looked at it before dropping it back on the shelf.
"You've been a curse since the day you were born…" he muttered. "You made your mother run, you angered the wrong people… and now I have to risk my skin because of you."
A sudden sound made him jump.
A phone: unknown number. He pressed "answer."
Silence.
Then a low laugh, so low it hardly sounded human.
"Who is this?" Miguel growled.
More silence. Then two words: "Too late."
The call disconnected and Miguel froze: eyes fixed ahead.
For the first time in his life, he understood what fear really felt like: not fear for Naiara, not for his wife, but for himself because whoever had taken his wife… was far more powerful than he was and was warning him.
The speedboat hit the dock with a dull thud.
Clara jumped ashore, exhausted, sandy, dark circles under her eyes.
Damian climbed off grumbling.
Leo looked like a caged animal, ready to tear the world apart.
Ethan set down his bag.
"Listen carefully. I'm going in. You stay here."
Leo grabbed him by the shirt, his voice came out feral.
"Don't leave me out of this. Not while she…"
Ethan placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Leo, if they see you, they'll lock you up. You're suspended. If they arrest you, you'll never find her."
Damian snorted.
"Yeah. You'll cry in a cell while I… "
Clara kicked him in the shin.
"Shut up."
Ethan exhaled deeply, studying them: a shattered man, a venomous brother, and a woman holding everything together by a thread.
"I'll be right back."
He passed through the gate.
The Captain looked at him as if he could read his soul.
"Caravaggio. Why are you here?"
"A girl is missing, sir. Miguel Moreno's daughter."
The Captain stiffened. "Go on."
"She's not on the island anymore. She's been taken somewhere else. If we find her, we find him."
"Moreno is a ghost. We've never had anything solid on him."
"Then this is our chance."
The Captain studied him.
"Why are you handling this alone?"
"Because no one else will." A beat of silence.
Then: "You'll have access to our systems. But Caruso stays away from this base. Don't mention him. Don't bring anyone in."
"Yes, sir."
Ethan returned to the dock.
Leo rushed toward him like a man emerging from a storm.
"Tell me you found something."
"Naiara… is no longer on the island."
Clara covered her mouth. "Where did they take her?"
"We don't know. But my superior agreed to help."
Damian scoffed. "What a hero."
Leo stepped toward him, threatening. "You want to keep talking?"
"Enough!" Clara snapped, exhausted. "We need rest. If we collapse, we're useless to her."
Ethan nodded. "She's right. Let's go to Clara's place. Tomorrow, we start again."
The living room was a battlefield of pillows, bags, and three exhausted bodies collapsing wherever they could.
Leo fell asleep with a clenched jaw, Damian with his usual cocky expression but shaky breath.
Clara remained in the kitchen, unable to be still. Ethan saw her.
The kitchen door was slightly open, the light dim. She held a glass of water, her hands trembling just a bit.
"Can't sleep?" he asked softly.
Clara jumped. "And you can?"
He smiled faintly. "No."
A tense silence.
She downed the entire glass of water.
"Everything is a mess. Leo is losing his mind. Damian… " She shook her head. "And I… I feel like I've been holding my breath for days."
Ethan looked at her, really looked at her.
She wasn't fragile, she wasn't just support, she was a volcano with a cork shoved on top.
"You've done more than anyone could've," he murmured.
Clara let out a humorless laugh: "Oh please. I'm no hero."
"No one is." He stepped a little closer. "But you got damn close."
Her eyes flickered: tired, yes but something else was there, something new, something she didn't want to name.
He was close, maybe too close.
"Don't look at me like that," she whispered.
"Like what?" His voice was low, warm.
"Like you can see through me."
Ethan looked down at her hands. Her slender fingers gripping the glass, knuckles white.
"Maybe you're only transparent when you're exhausted," he replied.
Clara held her breath, her throat tight.
"Ethan…"
"You should sleep." But he didn't move.
Clara turned slightly, on edge. "If you say it like that, I definitely can't."
He took a single step forward: instinctive, natural… Just one step.
He didn't touch her but the heat of his body reached her like an invisible push.
Clara felt something slip under her skin: a sweet fear, a forbidden desire.
"We're friends," she murmured, as if defending herself.
"I know."
"And we're in the middle of hell."
"I know."
Silence.
"Then why do you look at me like that?" she whispered.
Ethan lifted his eyes, and for a brief, dangerous instant, his armor fell.
"Because I can't help it."
Clara froze. Then suddenly turned and walked out of the kitchen, not to escape but because if she'd stayed one more second…
She would have kissed him, and Ethan knew it. He smiled to himself.
Not now.
But soon.