Sophia Sullivan turned with an armful of dry grass.
A razor-thin blade glinted between her fingers.
She crouched by the campfire, stirring the embers with a stick.
Flickering flames cast dancing shadows across her face.
A loose strand of hair fell, veiling the dangerous glint in her eyes.
Ethan Sullivan leaned against the cave wall, gripping a sharp stone.
His fingers flexed, then relaxed.
"Your bandaging skills are professional," he remarked.
Sophia didn't turn.
"Childhood injuries make for good practice."
Ethan's lips curled with silent skepticism.
If bruises taught medical precision, hospitals would be obsolete.
"Miss Sullivan has remarkable talent," he said flatly.
"Mr. Sullivan's leg is the real medical marvel," Sophia countered.
The air turned glacial.
Sophia traced the hidden blade with her fingertips.
At this distance, she could strike lethally before he reacted.
Ethan's mobility was compromised.
The odds favored her.
She recalled the rumors about Ethan Sullivan.
The ruthless young tycoon who seized control of his family empire.
Years of feigned disability hinted at darker secrets.
Now she'd stumbled upon them.
Silencing him would be the cleanest solution.
Sophia's lips curved.
"That necklace is unusual."
It reminded her of the cruise night.
Cold steel pressed against her spine.
Ethan toyed with the serpent pendant, eyes darkening.
"A dangerous woman left it," he murmured. "Intriguing enough to pursue."
A test.
Her performance aboard the Royal Princess had been too polished.
Nothing like the docile Mrs. Winston from the gossip columns.
Coincidence or conspiracy?
"Curiosity kills," Sophia added another log.
Tucking hair behind her ear, firelight played across her profile.
"Though the craftsmanship is exquisite. The owner has taste."
Ethan chuckled.
The woman could compliment herself mid-threat.
Impressive composure.
Sophia met his gaze.
"Your combat skills are noteworthy."
Her fingers tightened around the blade.
Ethan's expression remained unreadable.
"Amateurish compared to yours."
He remembered the gun pressed to her ribs that night.
This was no ordinary socialite.
Tension crystallized between them.
Only the crackling fire broke the silence.
A spark landed between their shadows.
"Let me check your injury."
Sophia moved suddenly, kneeling before him.
Her hair brushed his cheek.
Carrying a faint, elusive fragrance.
She smiled gently.
"This scratch looks like bramble marks."
Icy fingertips grazed his chest.
The blade gleamed between her ring and pinky fingers.
Two centimeters from his heart.
"Allow me."
Her voice was honeyed silk.
The blade shone cold steel.
She struck without hesitation.