Rosalind stood at the railing of the cruise ship, the night wind tugging at her hair as she replayed Nicholas’s words in her mind.
Port Seven. Two days.
It felt too easy. Too… calculated. Nicholas never made mistakes—not unless he wanted someone to think he had.
A voice crackled through her earpiece. “You’re too quiet, Venom Rose.”
Tristan’s voice. Steady, but laced with something she couldn’t quite place.
“I’m thinking,” she murmured.
“Dangerous habit.”
She exhaled slowly, staring out at the dark waves. “Nicholas doesn’t give away information unless there’s a reason. He’s leading us there.”
“Of course he is,” Tristan said, as if it was obvious. “The question is, what’s waiting for us when we get there?”
Rosalind clenched her jaw. “That’s what I need to find out.”
There was a pau
