The house was quiet in the pre-dawn darkness, the only sound the gentle lapping of waves against the shore and the faint rustle of palm fronds in the wind. Caleb stood on the veranda, a cup of coffee cooling in his hands, his eyes fixed on the horizon where the first pale hints of light were beginning to bleed through the clouds. He had not slept. The confrontation with Keller had replayed itself in his mind a hundred times—the smug smile, the casual threat, the cold certainty that the buyers would return. And now, standing in the grey light of morning, he understood that their time on Palemar was over.
The island had been a dream, brief and beautiful. But dreams were fragile things, and the world had a way of shattering them.
He heard footsteps behind him and turned. Nyla was there, wra
