The air on the Royal Princess was thick with tension. Security scrambled across the deck, their radios crackling as they searched for the shooter. Tristan kept Emry close, his hand gripping her wrist as he led her away from the crowd and into one of the ship’s private lounges.
The room was dimly lit, its large windows revealing nothing but the endless, dark ocean stretching into the horizon. Tristan shut the door, locking it behind them.
“Talk,” he demanded, his voice edged with frustration. “You disappeared on our wedding night, and now you’re telling me my entire company is built on stolen work. Someone just tried to shoot us, and I don’t believe in coincidences.”
Emry folded her arms, her expression unreadable. “You think I wanted to vanish, Tristan?” Her voice was low, carrying the
