The morning had been perfect. Turquoise water, palm trees, a luxury resort, and Martin, her perfect fiancé. Then the test showed two pink lines, and for one shining moment, Rory’s joy felt complete. Now she stood frozen in the doorway of a private massage cabana.
Martin, the love of her life, was naked on the massage table, tangled with a resort staff member. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. The woman saw her first, eyes widening as she scrambled off Martin, knocking over a bottle of oil that shattered on the floor. “I’m sorry for barging in,” Rory stammered.
Martin turned, startled, then sighed. His expression shifted to indulgent condescension. “Oh, Rory, baby. You were supposed to be at the beach all afternoon.
”
“What is this? What are you doing? ”
“Come on, sweetheart. Don’t make this into a thing.
”
“A thing? ” Her voice cracked. “Babe, I’m just blowing off steam. You know how stressed I’ve been with the merger.
”
Rory stared, unable to reconcile the man in front of her with the one she thought she knew. “But we’re getting married in three months,” she whispered. “And I’m… I’m pregnant. ”
Silence.
The staffer froze. Martin’s smile faltered for a second before snapping back into place. “Pregnant? ”
He stood and walked toward her, caution in his eyes.
She stepped back. “You’re not happy. ”
“It’s not that. But you know my thoughts on kids, right?
We’ve talked about this. ”
“You said you weren’t ready,” Rory said. “No, sweetheart. I said I don’t want children.
Remember? We agreed our lifestyle isn’t compatible with kids. ”
“But we never said forever. ”
“Rory, you do this sometimes.
You hear what you want to hear. ”
A cold weight settled in her chest. Had she misheard? Misunderstood?
“Don’t worry,” he continued. “We’ll make an appointment when we get home. Quick and easy. My assistant will take care of it.
”
His casual dismissal cut through her shock. “This is our baby, Martin. I want this baby. ”
His mask slipped, irritation flashing before vanishing.
“Rory, be reasonable. We’re not having a kid. ”
“And why not? So you can be free to fool around?
” She gestured toward the staff member, who hurried to leave. Martin laughed, breezy and confident. “That’s nothing. It doesn’t mean anything.
”
“It means something to me. ” Tears welled, but she blinked them back. “Rory, baby. I’ve never cheated on you.
Not once. ”
She stared. What did he mean, never? She just saw him.
Still, for a moment, she almost believed him. She wanted to. “One mistake in three years. It meant nothing.
You know how much I love you. ”
He cupped her face, earnest and rehearsed. “Oh, baby. This is why I didn’t tell you.
You get so emotional about these little things. I promise you, this has never happened before. Never. It’s the stress, the island.
I made a mistake. Don’t throw away everything over one mistake. ”
She faltered. The fear of being alone rose in her throat.
She thought of their apartment, the venue, the baby. “I… I don’t know, Martin. Let’s talk tonight. ”
He kissed her forehead.
“Meet me in our room at seven. We’ll have dinner. Talk through everything. ”
“Okay.
Okay,” she heard herself say. “That’s my girl. ” He squeezed her hand. “Get some rest.
You look tired. ”
He walked off without a glance back. Crisis managed. Rory didn’t move.
Her mind told her to return to the suite, to rest, to pretend this could be salvaged. Martin loved her. They’d figure it out. Everything would be fine.
But her body had other plans. She walked past the pools, the tennis courts, the honeymooners clinking glasses. Fragments of panic flickered through her mind. The invitations just went out.
What will I tell my parents? How can I raise a baby alone? Her hand clutched her purse, where the pregnancy test remained hidden. She reached the private beach.
Her sandals left perfect prints in the sand. She should go back to the room. Instead, her feet carried her toward the dock. At the end, a small motorboat bobbed in the water.
A tall man tended to it, irritation flashing in his eyes when she approached. And in that moment, Rory knew one thing with certainty. “I need to get off this island,” she said, her voice steady. “Right now.
”
The man barely reacted. He finished coiling a rope, then glanced up, brown eyes narrowing against the sun. “Right. Well, good luck with that, then,” he muttered, turning back to his boat.
Rory watched him untie the mooring rope. As he pulled up the anchor, she climbed aboard, nearly toppling into the water. “What do you think you’re doing? ” He was at her side in a flash, scowling.
“Take off your shoes. ”
“I’m so sorry,” Rory said quickly, slipping off her sandals. “Thanks. Now get off my boat.
”
“Oh, but I thought we were leaving now. ”
“We? ” He raised an eyebrow. “There’s no we.
”
“But you said you’d help me get off the island. ”
“When did I ever say that? You said you wanted to get off. I said good luck.
”
“But aren’t you leaving anyway? ” Rory asked. He just glared. “Great.
” She clasped her hands. “Then I’ll come with you. ”
“It’s a one-person boat,” he snapped. Her frustration boiled over.
After today — the pregnancy test, Martin’s betrayal — she was done being dismissed. “You won’t even notice I’m here,” she said, sitting down. “Get off. ”
A shout interrupted.
Three men in dark suits ran toward them from the resort. “Sawyer! We need to talk to you. ”
Sawyer went rigid.
His eyes flicked to the men, then to the water. Without a word, he lunged for the wheel and jammed the key into the ignition. “You know them? ” Rory asked.
The engine roared. The men broke into a sprint. Sawyer shoved the throttle forward. The boat surged away just as the men reached the dock.
“This isn’t over! ” the lead man shouted. “We know what you did. ”
Rory’s eyes widened.
“Are those police? Are you in some kind of trouble? ”
Sawyer’s knuckles whitened on the wheel. The boat picked up speed.
“Seriously? ” Rory pressed. “Who are those men? What do they want with you?
”
The dock disappeared behind them. More people gathered on shore. “Security? ” Rory swallowed a mix of relief and dread.
“That’s incredibly rude,” she muttered, “and slightly concerning, if I’m being honest. ”
Sawyer didn’t respond, eyes fixed on the rearview mirror until the island was no more than a distant line. Dark clouds loomed ahead, purple light staining the horizon. She was pregnant, alone, on a boat with a stranger heading into a storm.
“You’re not much of a talker, are you? ” she asked, trying to fill the silence. Sawyer glanced sideways. “Do you ever shut up?
”
She snapped her mouth shut, stung. She was used to being liked. Agreeable. Everyone liked her.
Everyone but Martin. And now this stranger. “Where are we going? ” she asked, voice too high.
“Off the island,” Sawyer said. “As requested. ”
Panic built. No plan, no luggage, no closure.
Her foot stomped before she could stop it. “I demand to know where we’re going. ”
Sawyer turned, amused. “Oh, I don’t think you quite understand, sweetheart.
This is my boat. You don’t get to make demands. ”
She opened her mouth to respond. Then thunder cracked overhead.
The storm rushed toward them. Rain lashed down. Wind whipped her hair across her face. Waves rose fast.
“Maybe we should go back,” she said, voice shaking. “It’ll be fine,” Sawyer muttered, though his grip tightened. The sky broke open. Within seconds, she was soaked, shivering in her clinging sundress.
The boat climbed a wave and crashed down. Rory’s stomach flipped. “I think I’m going to be sick,” she gasped, stumbling toward the side. “Don’t you dare go overboard!
” Sawyer yelled, barely audible over the wind. Rory vomited, then slipped. For a heartbeat, she was falling. A hand grabbed her wrist and yanked her back.
Sawyer’s face loomed over hers, rain-slicked and furious. “I told you to be careful,” he shouted. “I’m sorry,” she yelled back, unsure what for. He hauled her toward the wheel, one hand never leaving her arm.
“We need to turn back. Storm’s too strong. ”
Rory nodded, more than ready to retreat. Martin or not.
Sawyer spun the wheel. The boat groaned against the waves. She clutched his arm. They began to turn.
For a brief, hopeful moment, it seemed they might make it. Then Rory saw the wall of water. Massive. Racing toward them.
“Sawyer! ” she screamed, pointing. His eyes widened. He grabbed her waist, pulling her tight.
“Hold on to me,” he growled into her ear. “Don’t let go. ”
Rory wrapped her arms around his solid frame just as the wave hit. The boat rose.
Rory’s feet left the deck as gravity lost its hold. For a suspended moment, they hung there. And then the boat flipped, tossing them into the raging sea. The impact knocked the breath from Rory’s lungs.
Cold water filled her nose as her flailing arms lost their grip on Sawyer. Something solid slammed into her back. Rory’s last coherent thought was of the tiny life inside her. I’m sorry, she thought.
Then darkness closed in. Sunlight burned against Rory’s eyelids. Something rough scratched her cheek. Sand.
She opened her eyes and winced at the brightness. Paradise stretched before her. Pristine white sand, crystal turquoise water, palm trees swaying in a gentle breeze. “Hello?
” Her voice came out as a rasp. She struggled to sit up. “Is anyone there? ”
The only response was the rhythmic sound of the ocean and distant bird calls.
Panic began to rise in her chest when she spotted a figure sprawled face-down on the sand about twenty feet away. Sawyer. Ignoring her body’s complaints, Rory scrambled over to him. His dark hair was plastered to his head, his clothes torn and sand- crusted.
She hovered uncertainly. “Sawyer, can you hear me? ” Her voice rose with each word. “Help!
Somebody! We need help over here! ”
Sawyer’s eyes snapped open, squinting against the sun. “Stop yelling,” he groaned.
Rory sat back on her heels. “Oh, thank God you’re alive. ”
“God had nothing to do with it. ” He grimaced, pushing himself up.
“We need to get help,” Rory said, glancing around the deserted beach. Sawyer gave her a look that suggested she might be simple. “Help? From whom?
This is a deserted island. ”
Rory’s mind blanked at the word deserted. “How do you know that? ” she challenged.
Sawyer gestured around them. “Because I have eyes. Our boat’s wrecked about a half mile down the beach. No radio, no working engine.
I salvaged what I could — a flare gun, some water bottles, a first aid kit. ” He nodded toward a small pile of supplies. “Not that it matters. There’s nothing but ocean for at least fifty miles in every direction.
”
Rory stared at him. “You woke up earlier and then you just decided to take a nap here? ”
“Well, excuse me, but someone’s been busy swimming both of us to shore during a storm. ”
The implication sank in.
“You… you saved my life. ”
He shrugged, looking away. The gesture was so dismissive of what must have been a tremendous effort that Rory felt a sudden, unexpected rush of warmth toward this grumpy stranger. “Well, thank you,” she said sincerely.
She rose to her feet, extending her hand. “I think we got off on the wrong foot, you and I. I’m Rory Sinclair. ”
Sawyer stared as if she were offering him a dead fish.
“We need to look for help,” Rory encouraged. “There could be people on the other side of the island. Or a shelter. ”
“Or,” Sawyer interrupted, “are you deaf?
I just told you this is a deserted island. ”
“But there has to be someone who can help. How are we going to go home if we can’t call for help? ”
Sawyer just blinked at her.
“How are we going to go home, Sawyer? ”
“Just be grateful you’re alive. ”
Alive? Rory’s hand instinctively moved to her still-flat stomach.
She was alive, but what about her baby? “I’m going to find help,” she announced, squaring her shoulders. Sawyer pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly. “There is no help.
I’m telling you. ”
“And I’m telling you, we can’t give up hope. Who knows? Just beyond this jungle, there could be a beautiful resort.
”
“There’s not. ”
“Are you always this defeatist? ” Rory asked. “I’m realistic.
”
“Fine. ” Rory dropped his arm. “Stay here. I’m going to look for help.
And when I find some and get to shower and change long before you do, someone’s going to feel plenty stupid. ”
A ghost of a smile touched Sawyer’s lips. “Oh, someone will definitely feel stupid. And that’s not going to be me.
”
“You know, you could try being a little nicer. ”
“Being delusional isn’t being nice, sweetheart. It’s just wasting time. ”
Something snapped inside Rory.
Maybe it was the stress of the shipwreck, or the lingering shock of Martin’s betrayal, or the fear for her unborn child. But suddenly she was shouting. “Kindness is never a waste of time. And besides, we’re stuck on an island.
We have all the time in the world, you big jerk. ”
The words echoed across the empty beach. Sawyer’s expression didn’t change. It made Rory want to shake him.
She didn’t. Instead, she turned on her heel and marched toward the line of trees that marked the edge of the beach. “Don’t go into the jungle alone,” she heard Sawyer call out. “You’ll get lost.
”
“Watch me,” she yelled back, not slowing her pace. Rory plunged into the dense foliage, determined to prove him wrong and trying desperately to outrun the growing fear that he might be right. Fury propelled Rory through the jungle. “Stupid, arrogant man,” she muttered, stomping along a barely-there path.
“Would it kill him to be a little optimistic? ”
Branches whipped her arms as she charged deeper into the island’s interior. Never had she met someone so aggravating. It was like he was allergic to basic human decency.
Was he raised in a barn? Half an hour later, her pace slowed. Reality set in. She had no idea where she was going.
The jungle thickened, filled with unfamiliar plants and eerie sounds. Are there wild animals here? The thought halted her. Dressed in a sundress, barefoot, she suddenly felt very small.
“Hello? ” she called. Silence answered. Maybe storming off wasn’t her best idea.
Then the sound of rushing water reached her. Parched, she pushed through vines and gasped. A crystal-clear lagoon stretched before her, fed by a waterfall tumbling from rocks above. “Oh my God,” she whispered.
Sunlight filtered through the canopy, sparkling on the surface. She rushed forward, scooping water into her hands. It was cool, sweet, miraculous. She splashed her face, washing off salt and sand.
“Thank you,” she breathed. With new resolve, Rory set off, retracing what she thought was her path. But time slipped by. The sun sank.
Landmarks blurred. I’m lost, she admitted, heart pounding. Panic rose. Pregnant, stranded, alone.
Then movement behind her. She froze. “Hello? ” Her voice was barely a whisper.
Leaves rustled. Rory backed away, searching for anything — shelter, a weapon. The foliage parted. A massive black wolf stepped into view.
It was huge, silver-tipped fur gleaming in the fading light, golden eyes locked on hers. Alert, intelligent, almost human. “Nice wolf,” she whispered, inching back. “Good wolf.
Don’t eat me. ”
But the wolf simply sat, watching. No growling, no teeth. Just calm, unnerving stillness.
“You’re not going to attack me? ” she asked. It tilted its head. Something in its gaze reminded her bizarrely of Sawyer.
She let out a shaky laugh. “I must be losing my mind. I’m talking to a wolf now. ”
The wolf didn’t move.
“You know,” she said, relieved just to speak aloud, “this has been the worst day of my life. First, I find out I’m pregnant. Then I catch my fiancé cheating. He wasn’t even excited about the baby.
”
The wolf’s ears twitched. “So I ran. Got on a boat with a complete, self-absorbed jerk. He saved my life.
” She paused. “But he’s still a jerk. ”
She slid to the ground, comforted by the wolf’s presence. “And now I’m lost in a jungle, talking to a wolf, with no clue how to get back.
” Her voice cracked. The wolf rose and approached slowly, nudging her hand with its muzzle before stepping back, looking toward the trees. “Do you want me to follow you? ”
It walked a few paces, then glanced back.
“This is insane,” Rory muttered, getting up. The wolf led, pausing now and then to check on her. At one point, it pawed at a low branch heavy with yellow fruit. “Are those edible?
” The wolf huffed softly. “If I die from eating mystery fruit a wolf showed me, that would be a fitting end,” she said, picking one anyway. It was sweet and tangy, instantly refreshing. “Thank you,” she said.
As night fell, firelight glowed ahead. Her camp. Driftwood stacked, supplies arranged. No sign of Sawyer, but he’d been here.
“You did it,” she whispered. “You got me back. ”
The wolf sat at the edge of the jungle, silent. “Thank you,” she said again, sincerely.
“I don’t know why you helped me, but thank you. ”
It blinked once, then slipped into the darkness without a sound. Rory woke to the smell of smoke and something cooking. Sawyer crouched by the fire, turning what looked like fish on a makeshift spit.
“You came back,” she said, stretching. “It’s my campfire,” he replied. Rory attempted a smile. “Aren’t you curious about how I found my way back to the beach yesterday?
”
“You got lucky,” Sawyer said. “Actually, I wasn’t alone. A wolf guided me. ”
She expected, if not a full-on gasp, at least a small raise of an eyebrow.
But Sawyer just gave a sideways glance and said nothing. As if a wild wolf guiding her through the jungle was just an everyday occurrence. “There really was a wolf here on the island, and it didn’t attack,” Rory insisted. “Or maybe you were so dehydrated you hallucinated it.
”
“I didn’t. I’d found a lagoon and drunk water by then. It’s about thirty minutes that way. ” She pointed.
Sawyer didn’t look up from the fish. “And did you see anyone on your way? ”
“No,” Rory admitted quietly. “I don’t think there’s anybody else around.
”
“You don’t say. ” The man sounded so smug it made Rory want to stomp her feet again. “Well, we can’t be sure,” she argued. “Not until we’ve explored the island entirely.
”
“Been there, done that, sweetheart. ”
And then three days passed in much the same pattern, the two of them working side by side and always ending up arguing. “Let’s build our shelter here, closer to the trees for shade,” Rory said. “And farther from the beach, where we could see rescue boats,” Sawyer countered.
“Do you have to argue with literally everything I say? ”
“Only when you’re wrong,” Sawyer said. “So, yes. ”
The shelter came together slowly.
A crude A-frame structure with a palm-thatched roof, barely big enough for two people, ensuring their sleeping arrangements remained uncomfortably close despite their mutual animosity. Each night, they retreated to opposite sides of the small space, backs turned to each other. And each dawn, Rory noticed Sawyer disappearing into the jungle, returning hours later with no explanation. Once, she woke to find him gone and followed his footprints along the beach until they mysteriously ended at the jungle’s edge.
Next to the path, she found clothes. Sawyer’s clothes. Like he’d just left them there. She didn’t dare ask what he was up to.
By the seventh day, their shelter was nearly complete. The roof needed reinforcing before the next rainfall, and they needed more fresh water. “I’ll show you where the lagoon is,” Rory offered. Sawyer considered for a moment, then nodded.
They set out with makeshift water containers, coconut shells, and a cracked plastic container salvaged from the wreckage. “So,” Rory began as they walked, the morning already sweltering, “you never told me what you were doing at the resort. ”
“Why would I tell you? ” Sawyer sighed.
“Did I ask you what you were doing at the resort? ”
“Oh. ” Rory perked up. “Well, I was on holiday with my —”
“That was a rhetorical question.
”
Rory pouted. “Well, this isn’t rhetorical. Why were those guys chasing you on the docks that day? ”
Sawyer’s jaw tightened, but he kept silent.
“Were you hiding from someone? Running from the law? ” Rory insisted. “Drop it.
”
“We’re stuck here together. I think I deserve to know. ”
“You don’t deserve shit. You forced your way onto my boat.
Everything that’s happened to you since is on you, not me. ”
Rory stormed ahead, clenching her fists. As if she’d planned to get shipwrecked on an island with the world’s most antisocial man. He wasn’t wrong, though.
She’d fled the resort with no luggage and no plan because she’d felt as though if she didn’t do it in that very moment, she wouldn’t have the courage to. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the change in terrain until it was too late. One step on solid ground, and the next, her foot sank into something soft. “Sawyer?
” she called. No response. Another step, and she sank deeper, the ground now swallowing her up to her calves. Oh God.
Quicksand. “Sawyer! ” Her voice rose with fear. “Come quick!
Help! ”
She tried to pull her legs free, but only sank deeper. Now it was at her knees. “Don’t move.
” Sawyer’s voice came from behind her, tight with tension. “I’m serious, Rory. Stop struggling. ”
“I’m sinking!
” The quicksand reached her waist, cold and suffocating. “I can see that. But you need to keep still. ”
Rory shook her head, unable to process his words through her panic.
“Get me out! ” she screeched. Tears sprang to her eyes as she felt the sand pulling her inexorably downward. “I will.
But you need to stop thrashing around. ”
“I can’t! ” Terror stole her breath as the quicksand reached the bottom of her ribs. “Look at me.
” Sawyer’s voice cut through her panic. “Rory, look at me. ”
She forced herself to meet his eyes. The usual annoyance was gone, replaced by something intense and determined.
“I’m going to get you out, but you need to trust me. Can you do that? ”
Rory hesitated for a beat, then nodded. “Good.
Now, lean back slowly. ”
“What? ” Screw trusting him. The guy was insane.
“Try to float on your back. You’ll float if you distribute your weight. The sand is denser than water. Do it, Rory.
”
Something in his voice — a certainty, a strength — compelled her to obey. Slowly, she leaned back until she was half-floating on the surface of the quicksand. The sinking slowed. “Good,” Sawyer said, stretching out on his stomach at the edge of the pit.
He extended a long branch toward her. “Now grab this and hold tight. ”
He began to pull, so slowly it was almost imperceptible. The quicksand reluctantly relinquished its hold.
Inch by agonizing inch. When Rory was close enough, he reached for her arms, his powerful hands closing around her wrists. With one mighty heave, he pulled her free, the momentum sending them both tumbling backward. They landed in a tangle of limbs, Rory half on top of him, both panting from exertion and fear.
Overwhelmed, Rory wrapped her arms around him, burying her face against his chest. “I was so scared. I thought —” A sob caught in her throat. “If you hadn’t been here…”
Sawyer went rigid at the embrace, but after a moment, his hand came up to pat her back awkwardly.
“Sorry,” Rory said, wiping tears from her cheeks. “I just… thank you. ”
She held on a moment longer, savoring the solid, real presence of another human being after so many days of emotional isolation. The quicksand incident changed something between them.
Not dramatically. Sawyer still scowled more than he smiled when Rory filled silences with cheerful chatter, but the edge of hostility dulled. “The roof leaks,” Rory pointed out after a sudden rainfall left them both damp. “I’m aware.
”
“I read somewhere that if you layer the palm fronds in an overlapping pattern, starting from the bottom —”
“You read about desert island survival in your spare time? ” Sawyer interrupted. “National Geographic,” she admitted with a half-smile. “I had a subscription.
”
To her surprise, Sawyer didn’t dismiss her suggestion. “Show me,” he said instead. Working side by side, they rebuilt the roof. When the next rain came two days later, they stayed dry.
“Not bad, bookworm,” Sawyer conceded, and Rory felt an absurd flutter of pride. Week three brought a successful fishing expedition. Rory watched in fascination as Sawyer fashioned a spear from a straight branch sharpened against a rock. “How did you learn to do all this?
” she asked, following him into the shallows. “Boy Scouts,” he deadpanned. She mimicked his stance, spear poised above the water. “Like this?
”
“Lower. And be still. Fish can sense the movement. ”
Her first attempts were comically bad.
She stumbled, splashed, and managed to scare away every fish within twenty feet. Sawyer watched with what looked suspiciously like amusement. He repositioned her hands on the spear, showed her how to account for the water’s refraction. When she finally speared a modest-sized fish, “Not bad” felt like high praise.
“We need a signal fire plan,” Sawyer said one morning, surveying the beach. “Something ready to light if boats pass. ”
Rory’s heart leapt at the mention of rescue. “You think someone might come looking?
”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “To be honest, I think it’s worrying no one has come for us yet. ”
Rory frowned. “What do you mean?
Surely people are looking as we speak. ”
Sawyer gave her a cautious look. “People are looking for me,” he admitted. “But they know very well I don’t want to be found.
Perhaps they’ve given up. And you — you mentioned getting into a fight with your fiancé before leaving the resort. ”
Rory frowned. She didn’t remember mentioning that to him.
Then again, she talked a lot. She might have let it slip. And more urgently, she suddenly realized what Sawyer was implying. “You think Martin will assume I left him and won’t think of reporting me missing?
” Her throat tightened. “Could take him a while to do so. Yes,” Sawyer admitted. “And by then, will he even realize when or how you disappeared?
It could take a while for a search party to be sent, if ever. Our best chance is to count on random boats passing by and signaling them. ”
They built a fire pit on the highest point of the beach, gathering materials that would create thick black smoke — green leaves, rubber from the boat wreckage. Sawyer showed her how to start a fire with the limited tools they had.
“Keep practicing,” he told her. “If you see a boat while I’m not here, don’t wait for me. ”
The implication that he might be gone when rescue came disturbed her more than she expected. She thought of how he always disappeared for hours in the very early morning.
“Where do you even go? ” she asked that night. “In the mornings, I mean. ”
He didn’t reply.
Yet sometimes when Sawyer disappeared at dawn, Rory couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Once, while washing clothes at the lagoon, she spotted a flash of black between the trees — a shape eerily similar to the wolf that had guided her back to the beach that first week. “Hello? ” she called.
“Are you there? ”
Nothing but birdsong answered. One month into their isolation, Rory realized something that filled her with both relief and renewed anxiety. She hadn’t had her period.
The baby was holding on, despite their harsh circumstances. She placed a hand on her still-flat stomach while Sawyer was off on one of his morning disappearances. “We’re going to be okay,” she whispered. “Somehow.
”
As she walked back to camp, that familiar prickling sensation returned. She turned, catching a glimpse of something large and dark retreating into the undergrowth. “I know you’re there,” she called out. The jungle remained still, but Rory was certain now.
The wolf was real, not a hallucination born of stress and fear, as she’d begun to wonder. And that raised more questions than answers. Wolves didn’t live on Caribbean islands. Certainly not alone.
How did it get here? And why did it seem to be following her? More pressing than the wolf, though, was how her body struggled with the pregnancy. Morning sickness hit her hard.
Until one day, Sawyer returned from one of his excursions and silently placed a gnarled root beside her. “What’s this? ” she asked. “Ginger.
Chew it. It helps with nausea. ”
Rory stared at him, the implications sinking in. “How did you know?
” she asked softly. “Just take the ginger,” Sawyer said. Days blended into a routine. They woke at dawn.
Sawyer was often already gone. One afternoon, while arranging their meager supplies, Rory built up the courage to ask, “Have you seen the wolf around? ”
Sawyer’s hands froze momentarily. “It’s big and black with golden eyes,” she insisted.
“I didn’t hallucinate. It’s still there, Sawyer. ”
He turned to face her, expression carefully neutral. “There are no wolves in the Caribbean,” he said.
Rory narrowed her eyes. He was hiding something. But why would he lie about not seeing the wolf? Was he trying to reassure her?
The more time they spent together — working, surviving, slowly learning to trust each other — the more Rory wondered about his past, because it was obvious it weighed on him. The way his expression darkened sometimes when he stared at the horizon. How he tensed at unexpected sounds from the jungle. A week later, as they sat by the fire eating dinner, Rory gathered her courage.
“Did you break the law? ”
Sawyer’s head snapped up, his eyes meeting hers across the flames. “Why do you ask? ”
“Those men at the resort.
They weren’t just looking for you. ” She kept her voice gentle. “You’ve been running from them, haven’t you? ”
He studied her for a long moment before finally giving a single reluctant nod.
“You’re going to ask me what I’ve done,” Sawyer said finally, his voice rough. Rory considered this. A month ago, she might have demanded answers, insisted on knowing exactly what kind of person she was stranded with. But now, she knew Sawyer in ways that went beyond words or explanations.
“Do you want to tell me what you’ve done? ” she asked softly. “No,” Sawyer admitted quietly. Rory resumed eating with a shrug.
“That’s it? ” Sawyer asked after a beat. “Aren’t you worried about what I might have done? ”
Rory looked up.
“No,” she said simply, with complete sincerity. Sawyer searched her face, brows furrowed. Then his shoulders relaxed slightly. Something had shifted.
The island remained unchanged — isolated, dangerous, a prison of palm trees and endless ocean. But it no longer felt quite so hopeless. Not when faced together. Dusk settled over the island, painting the sky in deepening shades of orange and purple as Rory gathered firewood at the jungle’s edge.
Sawyer had disappeared hours ago on one of his mysterious excursions, leaving her to handle the evening preparations alone. “Just once, it would be nice if he’d tell me where he’s going,” she muttered, bending to pick up another stick. A soft, dry rustling froze her mid-motion. A snake slithered across the fallen leaves, its diamond-patterned scales catching the fading light.
Rory’s breath caught in her throat. She was no expert, but everything about it screamed venomous. Carefully, she straightened. “Easy,” she whispered.
“Just stay calm. ”
The snake’s tongue flickered out, tasting the air. Rory took one slow step backward, then another. The branch beneath her foot snapped with a crack that seemed deafening in the tense silence.
The snake coiled instantly, its body forming tight muscular loops. Rory froze again, heart hammering. If it struck —
A black blur exploded from the undergrowth, hurtling toward her with startling speed. Rory stumbled backward, dropping her gathered firewood in shock.
The massive black wolf — her wolf — leaped between her and the snake, a growl rumbling from deep in its chest. The snake struck with lightning speed, its fangs sinking deep into the wolf’s foreleg. A high-pitched yelp cut through the evening air. The wolf shook its leg violently, flinging the snake against a nearby tree trunk with enough force to stun it.
Without hesitation, it pounced, finishing the reptile with a single bite to its neck. “Oh my God,” Rory breathed, taking a step toward the wolf. “You saved me again. ”
The wolf turned to her, golden eyes clouded with pain.
“You’re hurt. We need to get you back to the shelter. ”
The wolf looked up at her, then back toward the jungle, as if contemplating retreat. “Please,” Rory said, her voice breaking slightly.
“Let me help you. ”
After a long moment, the wolf struggled to its feet, swaying slightly. “That’s it. Good wolf.
” Rory reached out tentatively, touching the thick fur at its neck. “We need to clean that wound. ”
Guiding an injured wolf through the jungle proved challenging. The creature was clearly in pain, its steps becoming increasingly unsteady.
By the time they reached the shelter, twilight had faded to true darkness, and the wolf’s breathing had grown labored. “Lie down,” Rory instructed, hastily lighting the fire. “I need to see how bad it is. ”
To her surprise, the wolf obeyed, collapsing onto the sand with a whimper that tugged at her heart.
She brought water and cloth, gently cleaning the puncture wounds on the wolf’s foreleg. Already the limb was swelling, hot to the touch. “I don’t know what kind of snake that was, but it’s definitely venomous,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm despite her worry. She continued cleaning the wound, murmuring reassurances.
The wolf’s massive head eventually came to rest on her lap, its body trembling slightly. “You’re going to be okay,” she promised, stroking the silky black fur. “I won’t leave you. ”
The wolf’s golden eyes fixed on hers.
For a moment, she felt as if she were looking at someone familiar. Then the wolf convulsed, a violent shudder running through its powerful frame. “What’s happening? ” Rory gasped, instinctively tightening her hold on the creature.
Fur receded into skin. Limbs elongated. The entire skeletal structure shifted with audible cracks that made her stomach turn. She scrambled backward, a scream tearing from her throat as the impossible transformation completed.
Where the wolf had been, Sawyer now lay naked on the sand, his body curled in pain, breathing ragged. “Sawyer? ” she whispered, her mind unable to process what she’d just witnessed. His eyes — the same golden eyes she’d been looking into moments before — fluttered open.
“You’re… you’re the wolf,” Rory murmured. He nodded, wincing with the movement. “Don’t tell anyone. ”
A hysterical laugh bubbled up in Rory’s throat.
“Who would I tell? We’re on a deserted island. ”
“Good point,” Sawyer mumbled, eyelids drooping. The shock of his transformation momentarily distracted her from the more immediate problem, but the angry red swelling of his arm snapped her back to reality.
“Sawyer, you’ve been poisoned. ” Panic edged into her voice as she reached for him, pressing her palm to his forehead. He was already burning with fever. “It’s fine,” he slurred, eyes closing.
“Don’t worry. It’ll heal. ”
“What do you mean it’ll heal? This is serious.
” She shook his shoulder, fear gripping her heart. “Just needs sleep,” he muttered. “Shifter metabolism. ”
His words dissolved into incoherent mumbling.
Rory quickly covered him with their blanket, mind racing. None of it made sense, but the immediate danger trumped her confusion. Sawyer’s breathing grew shallow, his skin alternating between burning hot and clammy cold. She bathed his forehead with cool water, forced sips of water between his parched lips, and cleaned the wound repeatedly, though it seemed to worsen by the hour.
The punctures had turned an angry purple, with red streaks beginning to extend up his arm. “Don’t you dare die on me,” she whispered fiercely. “I can’t do this alone, Sawyer. I can’t have this baby alone on this island.
”
His only response was delirious muttering. “Camila,” he moaned. “I’m sorry, Camila. I’m so sorry.
”
Rory’s heart twisted at the raw pain in his voice. Whoever Camila was, or was, she clearly meant everything to him. A day passed, then another. Rory barely slept, constantly checking Sawyer’s pulse, his breathing, the state of his wound.
By sunset, something strange began to happen. The angry purple of the bite started to fade at the edges, the swelling minutely reduced. Rory blinked, certain she was hallucinating from exhaustion. But when she checked again an hour later, the improvement was undeniable.
Hope flickered to life in her chest, but she dared not embrace it fully. Not yet. Not until those golden eyes opened again and looked at her with recognition rather than fever-lazed confusion. The first rays of dawn filtered through the shelter’s gaps when Rory felt it.
A change in Sawyer’s breathing against her palm. She’d fallen asleep with her hand resting on his chest, needing the reassurance of each rise and fall. Now the rhythm shifted, quickened. Her eyes flew open to find his already watching her — golden-brown and clear for the first time in days.
The fever glaze was gone, replaced by something warm and wondering. “You’re here,” he whispered, voice rough from disuse. “Where else would I be? ” Rory’s own voice caught as relief flooded through her.
Without thinking, she reached out to brush sweat-dampened hair from his forehead, her fingers lingering against his skin. “How do you feel? ”
Sawyer captured her hand before she could withdraw it. “I’m fine,” he whispered, squeezing her fingers.
“I was never in danger. ”
Their gazes held, and Rory was suddenly acutely aware of how close they were, her body curved toward his beneath their shared blanket. She’d spent three days watching him fight for his life, memorizing every line of his face. And now that face was watching her back with an expression she’d never seen before.
“You saved me again,” she murmured. “That snake would have killed me. ”
Sawyer attempted to sit up, wincing with the effort. “How long was I out?
”
“Almost three days. ” Rory reached for the water container, bringing it to his lips. “I thought I might lose you. ”
The simple admission cost her more than she expected.
Sawyer’s thumb gently wiped away a tear she hadn’t realized had fallen. “I’m harder to kill than that,” he assured her. “I told you I would heal. ”
“Your wound!
” Rory managed, trying to regain composure. “It’s almost gone. That’s not… that’s not normal. ”
Sawyer’s expression softened.
His hand slid from her cheek to rest at the nape of her neck, keeping her close, as if afraid she might pull away from what came next. “No,” he agreed quietly. “It’s not. Not for humans, anyway.
”
The confession hung in the air between them, waiting for her reaction. Rory took a deep breath, steadying herself. “The wolf,” she said. “All this time, it was you.
”
It wasn’t a question, but Sawyer nodded anyway. “Yes. ”
Rory’s mind filled with images — the wolf guiding her back to the beach, the strange sensation of being watched when Sawyer was gone. “Why didn’t you tell me?
” she asked. “We’re not supposed to reveal our abilities to humans,” he said, looking slightly apologetic. “Who’s ‘we’? ” Rory asked.
“What are you exactly? A werewolf? ”
This drew a genuine chuckle from him. “A shifter,” he corrected.
“I was born this way. It’s what I am, not something that happened to me. ”
Rory’s free hand reached out tentatively, tracing the barely visible scar where the snake’s fangs had pierced his skin. “You said you were never in danger.
”
“My metabolism is different,” Sawyer explained. “Faster, stronger. We heal quickly. ”
“And there are more… like you?
”
Something like caution flickered across his face. “Yes. We live in packs, mostly. Or tend to,” he added, looking away.
“The men at the resort,” Rory realized suddenly. “Were they…? ”
“Some of them,” Sawyer confirmed. “The others were federal agents.
”
“Why were they chasing you? ”
Their eyes met, and something in Sawyer seemed to yield. “I was the alpha of my pack,” he began, voice low and intimate. “The leader, if you will.
And as such, I also had a human life. I ran a company. A big one. Until one day I couldn’t.
”
“Couldn’t? ” Rory parroted, confused. “Wouldn’t,” Sawyer admitted. “So I left.
”
Rory blinked, processing this. “And they want you to go back? ”
“Against your will? ”
“Yes,” he murmured.
“For financial reasons. ”
Rory sensed there was much more to the story — depths of pain and complication he wasn’t ready to share. But the trust in this partial confession felt like a precious gift nonetheless. “You’re safe here,” she whispered, a promise she had no right to make.
Sawyer’s eyes searched hers, and whatever he saw there seemed to reassure him. Rory’s heart skipped a beat as his hand slid into her hair and their foreheads touched, breath mingling in the narrow space between them. Their lips were so close she could almost taste a kiss she hadn’t realized until now how much she’d yearned for. But then memories of Sawyer’s fevered state, his troubled murmurs, came back to her.
“What about Camila? ” she couldn’t help but ask. Sawyer froze, looking stunned for a second, then upset. “How do you know that name?
” he asked, turning away. “You called for her,” she explained gently. “When you were delirious with fever. ”
Sawyer’s expression hardened in an instant, as if a door had slammed shut between them.
“Camila is dead,” he said flatly. Rory winced internally. She shouldn’t have asked. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“I didn’t mean to —”
“It’s not your fault. ” He struggled to his feet. “I need some air. ”
“Wait, Sawyer.
” Rory’s fingers brushed his wrist. For a moment, he looked back at her, and Rory glimpsed the raw pain beneath his composed exterior. Then he was gone, moving slowly but purposefully toward the jungle’s edge. The following day, Rory found herself watching the muscles in Sawyer’s back as he chopped wood.
The way sweat traced the contours of his shoulders, disappearing beneath his tattered shirt. Something had changed. A barrier broken. Now every glance carried weight.
Every accidental touch lingered a heartbeat too long. When he straightened, nostrils flaring, a low rumble thrummed in his chest. And as Rory reminded herself he was part wolf, her cheeks flushed with heat that had nothing to do with the tropical sun. At night they lay mere inches apart, close enough that Rory could feel the warmth radiating from his body.
“You’re restless tonight,” Sawyer murmured in the darkness. “Just thinking,” she replied, grateful he couldn’t see her blush. About how your hands would feel on my skin. About the taste of your mouth.
About whether you’d be gentle or fierce. Or both. “Home,” she said instead. There was a beat of silence.
“Do you miss him? ” Sawyer asked quietly. “Who? ” Rory frowned.
“Your fiancé. ”
The word sounded strange now. Distant. As if from another life.
“He isn’t my fiancé anymore,” she corrected. “Are you sure about that? ” There was something in Sawyer’s tone. A careful neutrality that didn’t quite mask the tension beneath.
Rory turned on her side to face him. “I caught him cheating on me. It’s over. ”
“But you didn’t tell him that,” Sawyer persisted.
“You just ran. ”
The observation struck uncomfortably close to truth. By day, they orbited in a slow, deliberate dance. When Rory waded from the lagoon, Sawyer’s gaze trailed every bead of water down her body.
His casual touches — a palm at the small of her back, knuckles brushing hers over a water jug — sparked along her skin. At dusk, he knelt behind her to teach palm frond weaving, chest a furnace to her spine, breath stroking her nape. “Like this,” he murmured, his voice low near her ear as he guided her fingers. Rory could barely focus on the weaving.
All she felt was the solid warmth of him, the slight roughness of his calloused hands over hers, the way his breath stirred tendrils of hair at her temple. She inadvertently leaned back against him. She felt his sharp intake of breath, the momentary tightening of his arms around her. “You’re a quick learner,” he said, but didn’t move away.
She turned her head slightly, bringing their faces close enough that she could see the golden flex in his eyes. For a breathless moment, she thought he might close the distance between them. “We should get some sleep,” he said instead. “Early start tomorrow.
”
And then one night, Rory woke to the sound of restless movement. Sawyer paced at the shelter’s entrance, his powerful frame silhouetted against the moonlight. “What’s wrong? ” she asked.
He froze at the sound, his back to her, shoulders rigid. “Go back to sleep, Rory. ”
Instead, she rose, drawn to him by some instinct deeper than thought. As she approached, she saw his hands clenched into fists.
“Sawyer? ”
His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, eyes closing for a moment as if in pain. When they opened again, they fixed on her with predatory intensity. “I can smell you, Rory,” he said, voice rough like gravel.
“Every emotion. Every change in your body. Every time your pulse quickens when I’m near. ”
Understanding dawned, heat flooding her cheeks.
“You mean you can smell my attraction? ”
“Yours calls to mine,” he admitted, taking a step closer despite his earlier warning. “It’s been driving me crazy for weeks. ”
The confession sent a thrill down her spine, desire pooling low in her belly.
“How do I smell now? ” she asked, suddenly breathless. Sawyer moved with startling speed, suddenly right in front of her. He lowered his face to the curve where her neck met her shoulder, inhaling deeply.
“Like heat,” he murmured, the word itself a caress. “And want. You’re like a flame in the darkness. I can’t stop breathing you in.
”
His hands came up to frame her face, thumbs stroking her cheekbones with surprising gentleness. “When you’re near,” he continued, his mouth hovering just above hers, “the wolf wants to claim. Make you smell like mine so every other predator knows you’re protected. ”
“There are no other predators here,” she reminded him, hands coming up to rest against his chest.
A sound rumbled from his chest — half laugh, half growl. “I’m the most dangerous thing on this island, Rory. ”
“Not to me,” she countered, bold now, with the evidence of his desire so clearly written in every tense line of his body. His thumbs traced her lower lip, eyes following the movement with hungry focus.
“I’m not free, Rory,” he warned, even as his body pressed closer, pinning her against the shelter wall. “I’m being hunted. I’ve done things. ”
“I don’t care.
” She cut him off, hands sliding up to cup his face. “I know who you are, Sawyer. I’ve seen you at your worst and your best. You’ve saved my life.
”
“That doesn’t make me good. ”
“You’re the only person in this world I trust completely,” she insisted, meaning every word. Something broke in his expression, the last barrier of resistance crumbling. Their first kiss wasn’t a gentle one.
His tongue swept inside, tasting her deeply as his hands roamed her body with urgent need. Rory met his hunger with her own, weeks of denied desire erupting in a desperate clash of lips and teeth and searching hands. Sawyer lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed her more firmly against the wall. “Are you sure?
” he asked, a possessive flare in his eyes. In answer, Rory kissed him again, pouring every ounce of desire and certainty into the contact. Dawn found them still entwined, the first golden rays of sunlight warming their skin. Rory woke to the sensation of Sawyer’s fingers tracing the curve of her cheek.
“Morning,” she murmured, stretching languidly against him. He smiled against her lips, and Rory lost herself in the sensation, marveling at how something so good could emerge from disaster. How being stranded could lead to being found in the most unexpected way. That’s when she saw it over his shoulder.
A glint of metal on the horizon. Unmistakable this time. “Sawyer,” she gasped, pulling away. “There’s a boat.
”
He turned, following her gaze. The vessel was distant but clearly visible, its outline distinct against the morning sky. “The signal fire,” he said, his voice tight with conflicting emotions. “We need to light it now.
”
The signal fire roared, black smoke streaking the clear sky. Rory shielded her eyes, heart leaping as the distant boat veered toward them. “They’ve seen us. ” She turned to Sawyer, exhilaration flooding her veins.
He stood rigid beside her, eyes narrowed as he stared at the approaching vessel. The color drained from his face, his body tensing like a predator sensing danger. “Sawyer? ” Rory touched his arm, concerned by his sudden change.
He grabbed her hand, pulling her away from the fire, back toward the treeline. “What’s wrong? ” Rory asked, confused. Once they were out of sight among the trees, Sawyer released her hand.
“That’s not a rescue boat,” he said. “That’s my pack. ”
“Your pack? ” Rory’s heart sank.
“Are you sure? ”
“Even at this distance, I can smell them. ” His jaw clenched. “If they find me here, they’ll force me to go back.
”
“Maybe that’s not so bad. ” Rory reached for him. “If I can face Martin, surely you can. ”
“You don’t understand.
” Sawyer ran a hand through his hair. “There’s more to it than I told you. ”
“Then tell me now. ”
Sawyer’s gaze met hers, raw with pain and something like shame.
“My real name is Sawyer Blake. ”
Blake? The name triggered a memory. Newspaper headlines.
Business channels. “Wait, Blake Global Holdings? That Blake? ”
He nodded grimly.
“CEO and majority shareholder. Or I was, until last year. ”
Rory struggled to process this. Sawyer Blake, the billionaire who disappeared amid allegations of financial fraud.
“You’re a fugitive,” she realized aloud. “Yes. ” The boat was getting closer. They didn’t have much time.
“Explain,” Rory demanded, crossing her arms. “When my father died, I inherited a company built on corruption,” Sawyer said, words tumbling out in his urgency to make her understand. “Corner-cutting, environmental violations, all buried in shell companies and offshore accounts. ”
“And you knew about this?
”
“Not until after I took over. My father kept me in the dark. ” Bitterness twisted his features. “When I discovered the truth, I started secretly gathering evidence, planning to clean house without destroying the company.
”
“What happened? ”
“Camila happened. ” His voice softened on the name. “She was an environmental lawyer I hired to help navigate the cleanup.
We fell in love. ”
The pieces began to click into place. “The woman you called for when you were feverish. ”
“Yes.
We were going to expose everything together, rebuild the company as something better. Then I made a decision that cost her everything. ”
The distant boat engine grew louder. Sawyer glanced toward the beach, then continued, speaking faster now.
“The board discovered what we were planning. They came to me with an ultimatum. Drop the investigation, or they’d release information about the pack. Expose our existence to the world.
”
“You chose to protect your pack,” Rory guessed. “I chose wrong. ” Self-loathing saturated his voice. “I told Camila we needed to back off, find another way.
She didn’t agree. ” His eyes closed briefly, the memory clearly agonizing. “Two days later, her car went off a cliff. Brake failure, they called it.
The police found nothing suspicious. ”
“But you knew better,” Rory whispered, horrified. “I knew who was responsible. My own board members, willing to kill to keep their secrets safe.
” Rage flashed in his eyes, briefly turning them fully golden. “The same night, they framed me for the very crimes I was trying to expose. By morning, federal agents were at my door with a warrant. ”
“So you ran?
”
“Yes. ” His shoulders slumped slightly. “My pack council ordered me to turn myself in, face trial. Said we couldn’t risk exposure.
I refused. ”
“That’s why they’re hunting you,” Rory realized. “Not just the authorities, but your own pack. ”
Sawyer nodded grimly.
“In their eyes, I’ve endangered everyone by remaining free. A fugitive shifter draws too much attention. ”
The boat engine cut off. They’d reached the shallows.
“Rory. ” Sawyer took her hands, his expression desperate. “I can’t go back. Not to a pack that would sacrifice justice for safety.
”
“What about clearing your name? ” she asked. “Finishing what you and Camila started? ”
“All the evidence is gone.
”
Shouting came from the beach. Voices calling, searching. “Tell them I died,” Sawyer said. The words rushed out, urgent and desperate.
“You want me to lie? ” Rory whispered. “It’s the only way. ”
“But we’d be separated,” she protested.
“After everything —”
“Rory, my life was over long before I came to this island. ” Sawyer said. “Don’t say that. ”
“It’s the truth.
” His voice was flat, devoid of hope. “What happened to Camila was my fault. I don’t get to just start over. ”
“But you deserve —”
“I deserve this.
” He cut her off, gesturing to the wild island around them. “Just survival. It’s better this way, for everyone. ” His hand moved to rest on her stomach.
“Especially for you and the baby. Those men killed Camila without hesitation. They wouldn’t spare you. ”
“I can’t just leave you here,” Rory protested, her voice breaking.
“What about your future? ”
Sawyer gave a small, humorless laugh. “I’m a fugitive shifter with enemies in both human and pack worlds. There is no future for me out there.
” He looked toward the beach, where voices grew closer. “I’ll hide deeper in the jungle. Mask my scent. But I need your help, Rory.
”
The impossible choice loomed before her. Leave the man she loved behind, or risk her child’s well-being on a fight they couldn’t win. “I can’t bear the thought of never seeing you again,” she whispered, her hand covering his where it rested on her stomach. “It’s better this way.
You go back to your world, build a life for your child. And I —” He glanced around at the wild jungle. “This is my home now. My penance.
”
“Sawyer —”
“Promise me you won’t look back,” he interrupted, his eyes intense. “Don’t waste your life thinking about me. ”
Footsteps approached through the undergrowth. They were almost out of time.
“Okay,” Rory agreed, tears spilling down her cheeks, though the promise felt like acid on her tongue. “I’ll do it. ”
Relief flooded Sawyer’s expression. He pulled her close, his kiss desperate and tender all at once.
A goodbye with no promise of reunion. “Thank you,” he whispered against her lips, “for making these last weeks worth living. ”
Before she could respond, he was gone, disappearing into the dense jungle with preternatural speed and silence. Rory wiped her tears, forcing her expression into one of relief and exhaustion as she stepped back toward the beach.
The performance of her life was about to begin. Three men emerged at the edge of the trees, tall and sharp-eyed, their presence unmistakably predatory. It was the right choice. The only choice for her child.
But as the boat pulled away from the island, taking her back to civilization while leaving her heart behind, Rory had never felt more adrift. They searched her face for cracks but found only grief. She held their gaze, steady and quiet, while inside her, something shattered. It felt like mourning a man who wasn’t dead.
A goodbye she could never take back. Find me, she thought desperately, hoping somehow he could sense her thoughts across the growing distance. Find me again. Two years later, Rory rocked gently in a secondhand chair, her daughter cradled against her chest.
Rain tapped softly at the apartment window, a soothing backdrop to the lullaby she hummed. Her baby was fifteen months old, with Martin’s hazel eyes and dark hair. But the fierce little spirit belonged to someone else entirely. “There we go,” she whispered as her daughter’s lashes settled on her cheeks.
Carefully, Rory rose and laid her in the crib, smoothing a hand over wild curls. Coming back had been harder than expected. The media storm — “Resort guest survives months on deserted island! ” — lasted for weeks.
Reporters pressed for details she couldn’t give. Her story held, but the scrutiny wore her down. Martin had shown up at the hospital, all smiles for the cameras. Offscreen, the mask dropped.
“You can’t seriously be keeping it,” he hissed, eyes on her belly. “Think about your figure. Your career. Think about me.
I’m not ready to be a father. ”
Rory laughed genuinely. After what she’d survived, his selfishness felt laughable. “There is no ‘us’ anymore, Martin.
And this baby isn’t yours in any way that matters. ”
His face twisted. “You cheated on me on that island? With who?
”
She hadn’t bothered explaining. Biologically, the baby was his. But Sawyer had been the one to protect, cherish, and fight for them both. “Goodbye, Martin.
Don’t contact me again. ”
He hadn’t, aside from signing away his parental rights. A final act meant as punishment, but one Rory accepted as a gift. She checked the monitor, then returned to the living room.
After finishing her degree, she found a job teaching swimming at a private school. The hours suited Camila’s needs. Their housing was modest, but enough. It was a good life.
Quiet. Steady. Only late at night did she let herself remember golden eyes, gentle hands, a voice that once spoke to her soul in two languages — man and wolf. She’d never told anyone the truth.
Not about the wolf. Not about Sawyer. A sharp knock at the door startled her. She glanced at the clock.
Midnight. Another knock, more urgent. She peered through the peephole, and her heart stopped. With trembling hands, she opened the door just enough to confirm what she barely dared hope.
He was thinner. His hair was longer. But it was him. Sawyer.
“Sawyer? ” she breathed. He looked different in jeans and a button-down, but his eyes — warm brown with hints of gold — were exactly the same. “Hello, Rory.
” His voice cracked something open inside her. Tears blurred her vision, emotions crashing over her. Joy. Fury.
Disbelief. “You’re alive,” she said, fists clenched to keep from reaching for him. “How did you find me? ”
A ghost of a smile.
“I told you once that I could find you anywhere. ”
“But you said —” She stopped, remembering his goodbye. “What happened? Why are you here?
”
“I turned myself in. ”
“What? ”
“Six months after you left, I signaled a ship. Went back willingly to face the charges.
” His smile was rueful. “Turns out someone was building a case against the board. They needed my testimony. ”
“But the evidence — most of it was gone.
”
“But Camila — she had backups. Smarter than any of us knew. ”
“So you’re free? Completely?
”
He nodded. “As of three weeks ago. The real criminals are behind bars. My name is cleared.
”
“Why now? ” She asked the real question, the words hanging unspoken. Why come back to me? He stepped closer.
“Because I lied to you, Rory. When I said my life was over. When I said to forget me. ” Another step.
“I was trying to make it easier for you. ”
He was close now. Close enough for her to breathe him in. “And now?
” she whispered. “Now I’m here to tell you the truth. ” His voice lowered. “I never stopped thinking about you.
Not for a single day. If you’ve moved on, I’ll understand. But I had to see you. Had to know if there’s a chance.
”
A cry from the baby monitor cut through the silence. Sawyer stiffened. His gaze shifted toward the sound. “The baby,” he said quietly.
Rory nodded. “My daughter. I should —”
“Of course. ” He stepped back.
She returned moments later, daughter in arms. Sawyer hadn’t moved. He stared at the child, awe and uncertainty battling in his expression. Rory stepped closer, tilting the baby toward him.
“This is Camila. ”
Sawyer inhaled sharply. “You named her —”
“After someone important to you,” Rory said. “To honor what we shared.
”
Emotion rippled through him, raw and visible. “Camila,” he whispered. Rory repeated gently. “Camila, this is Sawyer.
He’s someone who has waited a very long time to meet you. ”
He reached out, paused, then glanced at Rory. She nodded gently. He touched Camila’s hand, and her fingers curled around his.
“She’s wonderful,” he said, voice hushed. “Like her mother. ”
Rory’s tears spilled. “I never thought I’d see you again.
”
“I know. ” He brushed a tear from her cheek. “I thought staying away was right. And now — now I think we’ve both suffered enough.
” He cupped her face. “If you’ll have me, if you’re willing, I want to be part of your lives. Both of your lives. ”
Rory leaned forward, careful of the child between them, and kissed him.
Soft. Sure. A beginning. “You’re here now,” she said.
“That’s what matters. ”
Outside, the rain fell steady. Inside, three lives began the quiet work of becoming one.
