When I called again, the line was dead. The silence on the other end settled into something heavier than a dropped call — something deliberate. Those words wouldn't stop cycling through my mind, and underneath them a darker thought kept rising, insistent and cold. Cameron's real targets were my child and me. They had always been.
"Turn around!" I blurted out. "Head back to the villa — now!"
Before my bodyguard could complete the turn, something hit the car with massive, disorienting force. He was well trained — he recovered in under two seconds, steadying his hands and reaching for the ignition with the automatic precision of someone who had drilled for exactly this. But before he could pull off, a black SUV came head-on and slammed into the front of us. Two impacts, back to back, the second before the shock of the first had finished moving through my body, and every nerve I had screamed in response.
