Jack stared at her phone, her heart heavy with growing unease. The screen lit up with the string of unanswered texts she had sent Alex over the past four days, each one left on without a reply. She pressed the call button again, and as expected, it went straight to voicemail. She didn't even bother leaving another message; it felt pointless at this stage.
The first day Alex missed their usual call, Jack had brushed it off—he was probably exhausted, or maybe just busy. But now, it was the fourth day with no word, and the silence was deafening. Her mind began to spiral, memories of past missions where Alex had disappeared for days surfacing with alarming clarity. The last time he'd gone off the radar like this, he was tangled up deep in Scorpia's web, and Jack couldn't shake the fear that something equally dangerous was happening now.
She had already reached out to Tom and Kyra, hoping Alex had at least spoken to one of them. But when they both replied with the same concern—*"Haven't heard from him either, Jack"—*it only deepened the pit in her stomach.
Sighing, she threw her phone onto the couch and paced around the room. She hated this feeling—this helplessness, the uncertainty of not knowing where Alex was or if he was okay. It wasn't like him to go dark for this long, not without warning her first.
Jack couldn't just sit and wait. The gnawing sense of dread wouldn't let her. Maybe she was being overprotective, but every instinct in her body screamed that something was wrong. She wouldn't be able to relax until she knew for certain that Alex was okay.
It was the weekend, which meant she didn't have to worry about missing work. She grabbed her car keys and jacket, her mind already made up. She was going to drive to his college campus and check on him herself. If she could just see him, then maybe the suffocating fear pressing against her chest would ease.
The drive was a blur. Every mile that passed made her stomach twist tighter. Jack's thoughts raced, each one darker than the last. What if something had happened to him? What if this was another Scorpia situation, or worse? No, she couldn't think like that. She had to stay focused, stay calm.
When she finally arrived at the university campus, the knot in her stomach felt unbearable. She parked the car and quickly made her way across the grounds, her heart pounding louder with every step. She knew where Alex's dorm was, having visited him a few times before. The path felt longer than usual, her steps hurried but the distance never seemed to shorten.
Reaching his door, Jack knocked. There was no answer. She knocked again, harder this time, but still, silence. Her frown deepened as she wrapped her hand around the doorknob. It was unlocked.
The door swung open easily, and Jack froze on the threshold. The dorm was empty. Completely empty. Not just of Alex—but of everything. No clothes strewn about, no papers, no personal items. The space was eerily clean, too clean for a teenager who'd supposedly been living there just a few days ago.
"Alex?" she called out, her voice tentative, even though she knew there wouldn't be an answer.
Stepping inside, her footsteps echoed in the emptiness. The bedsheets were crisp, untouched. His desk was bare, except for a few stray pens and a closed notebook. Jack's heart raced as she scanned the room. Something was off—way off.
Her fingers brushed over the top of the desk. Dustless. Everything felt wrong. Alex was messy, disorganized—this wasn't him. She opened the closet and found it empty, not a single article of clothing left behind. No sign of the familiar chaos Alex always carried with him.
"Jack?" a voice starteled her she turned back, it was Kyra with a suitcase next to her
ack's heart skipped a beat at the sound of Kyra's voice behind her. She spun around to see Kyra standing there, suitcase in hand, her expression mirroring the confusion and concern Jack had been feeling for days.
"Kyra? What are you doing here?" Jack asked, her voice tight, still processing the shock of her sudden appearance.
Kyra furrowed her brow. "Alex and I had planned for me to visit. He was supposed to pick me up at the airport, but when he didn't show up, I thought maybe something came up." She glanced at Jack, her eyes filled with growing worry. "What's going on?"
Jack shook her head, a wave of unease crashing over her again. "Something's wrong, Kyra. All his stuff is gone." She gestured to the room, barren and spotless. "It's like he was never here."
Kyra's face fell as she looked around the empty dorm, taking in the eeriness of it all. "Gone? What do you mean, gone?" she asked, her voice rising with disbelief. She dropped her suitcase and walked into the room, touching the bed and desk like she was searching for any trace of Alex. "This doesn't make sense. Why would he—"
"I don't know," Jack interrupted, her voice barely above a whisper. She felt a lump in her throat, her hands trembling slightly. "I've been trying to reach him for days. No calls, no messages. I thought maybe he was busy, or..." She trailed off, biting her lip as she fought back the fear that had been gnawing at her since his silence began. "But now... this?"
Kyra took her phone out of her pocket "I'll try to call him" she said
Jack's breath hitched as the familiar ringtone filled the otherwise eerily quiet dorm room. The sound felt out of place, haunting. Her chest tightened, the weight of it pressing down as the fear she had been trying to suppress for days clawed its way to the surface.
Her heart pounded, and for a moment, she couldn't move—rooted to the spot by the surreal sense that something was terribly wrong. Her fingers curled into trembling fists as she swallowed back a wave of nausea. Alex would never go anywhere without his phone.
Kyra, frowning in confusion, lowered her phone, her brow furrowing deeply as the two women exchanged uneasy glances. The ringtone grew louder, seeming to pulse with the urgency they both felt, as if the phone itself was begging to be found.
The noise was faint but persistent, and they began to search the room, eyes darting over the sparse, empty space. Jack's gaze followed Kyra's, scanning every corner. The room didn't look lived in—it was too clean, too bare, like someone had wiped away every trace of Alex's existence.
Kyra stepped forward, finally crouching beside the bed. She hesitated for just a moment before reaching underneath, and when her hand emerged, it was clutching Alex's phone. She held it up slowly, her face pale with disbelief.
Jack's breath caught in her throat as she stared at the phone in Kyra's hand. "What the hell?" she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of mounting dread. Her mind raced. Why would Alex leave his phone behind? Why would he disappear without it?
She reached out to take the phone from Kyra, her fingers trembling as she clutched it tightly. The screen blinked with missed calls and unread messages—everything Jack had sent him over the past few days, all sitting unanswered.
"This doesn't make sense," Jack muttered, her voice shaky. "Where is he? Why would he leave without this?"
Kyra, equally troubled, shook her head. "Something's seriously wrong, Jack," she said quietly. "Alex wouldn't just vanish like this... not without a trace."
The room, once filled with the faint hope that Alex was simply away, now felt suffocating with the possibility that something far darker had happened. Jack's grip tightened on the phone as a wave of helplessness and fear washed over her.
"Who are you guys?" a confused voice suddenly broke through the thick tension in the air. Jack and Kyra turned to see a guy lounging in the doorway, looking as if he'd just rolled out of bed. His disheveled hair hung over his eyes, and he seemed utterly unconcerned about the state of the room.
"Who are you?" Kyra shot back, her frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.
"I live here," he replied, falling dramatically onto the bed as if the very act of speaking required immense effort.
"Do you know where Alex is?" Jack asked, her voice almost pleading, laced with urgency.
"Who?" The guy didn't even bother to open his eyes, his tone dismissive, as if they were inconveniencing him.
"Your roommate, dumbass!" Kyra snapped, crossing her arms and tapping her foot impatiently.
"Oh, I don't know," he muttered, finally lifting his head slightly. "Some guys saw him running out of campus a few days ago." His voice was flat, lacking the concern that Jack and Kyra desperately needed to hear.
"What do you mean running out?" Jack pressed, panic creeping into her tone. "What happened? Did he say anything? Did he look scared?"
The guy shrugged, letting his head fall back against the wall. "I dunno, man. Just heard he bolted. You know how it is."
Alex stirred, eyes fluttering open as the sound of birds chirping filtered through the open window. For a fleeting moment, he was back in his dorm, the familiar weight of his covers draped over him, the steady hum of campus life outside his window. Then the suffocating wave of heat hit him, and reality set in with an almost startling clarity. He wasn't there anymore.
Throwing off the light sheet, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, feeling the cool tile floor beneath his bare feet. The curtains, fluttering lazily in the warm breeze, revealed a view so bright it nearly blinded him—an endless stretch of brilliant blue sea, sparkling under the Caribbean sun. The sky was cloudless, an expanse of vibrant azure, and the horizon melted seamlessly into the ocean. For a moment, he was almost lost in the beauty of it, but the tight knot in his stomach reminded him that none of this was real. This wasn't a vacation.
A soft knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. "Alex are you awake?" came Belinda's voice, her tone friendly but with an undercurrent of tension.
"Yeah," he responded, his voice hoarse from sleep.
"We're heading down for breakfast," she continued. "Your father and I will meet you there, alright?"
Alex nodded, though she couldn't see it, and muttered a quick, "Yeah, sure," in response. As her footsteps faded down the hall, he took a moment to glance around the room. It was nice to. The walls were painted in soft tropical tones, the furniture sleek and modern. A table in the corner held brochures about tourist attractions and resort activities, as if mocking the reality of why he was really there.
He walked over to the window, pushing the curtains aside fully to let in the morning light. The view outside was like something out of a travel magazine: white sand beaches, palm trees swaying gently in the breeze, and that intoxicatingly clear water that seemed to stretch on forever. But despite the beauty, Alex couldn't shake the sense of unease that had settled deep in his chest since they landed in Cuba.
He ran a hand through his hair, tousled from sleep, and sighed. His role here was simple—play the part of a happy, oblivious tourist, the son of Troy and Belinda Gardiner, while they handled the dangerous part of the mission, it was fine.
Shaking off the lingering unease, Alex grabbed a shirt and pulled it on, pairing it with a swimsuit to complete the illusion of a typical carefree tourist. He glanced at himself briefly in the mirror. The vacation-ready look fit well enough, but he could still feel the weight of the mission tugging at the corners of his mind.
Descending the stairs, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and tropical fruit wafted toward him, blending with the distant sound of clinking silverware and soft, conversational murmurs from the hotel's restaurant. The dining area was open and breezy, large windows offering a panoramic view of the beach outside. It was the kind of place where anyone would feel at ease—except Alex.
He spotted Troy and Belinda quickly, sitting at a table near the back. They were already deep into their roles, casually chatting as they sipped on fruit juice, blending in perfectly with the crowd. The breakfast spread in front of them looked straight out of a glossy magazine—plates of fresh papaya, pineapple, and toast arranged neatly next to their cups of coffee.
Belinda caught sight of him first, waving him over with a bright smile that was just a little too rehearsed. "Morning, sweetie," she greeted, her tone warm and motherly as if they really were just a family on vacation. "Did you sleep well?"
"Like a rock," Alex replied dryly, sliding into the seat across from them. He reached for a piece of toast, hoping the action would mask his discomfort. "The ocean view helps, I guess."
Troy glanced up from his coffee, offering a nod. "Good. We've got a full day of 'relaxing' ahead of us," he said, his tone slightly more serious than the words implied. "Beach, pool, maybe some snorkeling."
Alex nodded, his eyes scanning the other tables out of habit, noting the relaxed atmosphere of the restaurant. No one spared them a second glance. Security around the hotel was almost non-existent—no one looking too closely, no one questioning anything. In a way, it made him feel even more unnecessary.
Alex stared at the plate Troy pushed toward him, a typical breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. His appetite was nonexistent, but he knew better than to refuse. He picked up his fork, mechanically eating as if it were just another day on vacation. The food tasted bland in his mouth, a stark contrast to the lively chatter and clinking of silverware around them.
Belinda smiled at him again, her expression so convincing that, for a moment, he almost believed they were a real family. "you should eat the fruit, it's delightful ," she said lightly, taking a sip of her juice.
Alex forced a grin, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Right. Wouldn't want to ruin the diet," he muttered, spearing another piece of bacon.
Troy glanced around the restaurant, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering just enough to remain inconspicuous. "After breakfast, we'll hit the beach. Keep it casual, stay close, but don't make it obvious. We'll need to survey the area."
Alex nodded, his stomach churning despite the food. The beach would be swarming with tourists, locals, and vendors. It would be the perfect place for someone to blend in..
He finished his breakfast in silence, all too aware of the eyes in the restaurant, even if no one was actually looking at them. The air was thick with humidity, the kind that clung to your skin and made every breath feel like you were inhaling warm water. It was suffocating, but the illusion of a tropical paradise had to be maintained.
After a while, Troy stood up, tossing his napkin onto the table. "Alright, let's hit the beach. Sun's up, perfect time to relax." He gave Alex a meaningful look, and Alex knew what he really meant—this was no vacation.
They left the restaurant together, strolling through the open lobby of the hotel and out onto the street that led to the beach. The sand stretched out before them, glistening under the bright morning sun. A few families had already occupied the chairs with towels, kids running toward the waves while parents sat back with books and drinks in hand.
Belinda took off her sandals, digging her toes into the sand with a contented sigh. "This is what we're here for," she said cheerfully, playing her part perfectly. She gave Alex a wink, tossing him a beach towel. "Go grab a spot for us, hon."
Alex took the towel, scanning the crowded beach. He found a spot near the edge of the water, far enough from the other tourists to give them space but close enough to blend in. Troy and Belinda joined him, spreading out their towels and settling in as if they were just another happy family soaking up the sun.
"Don't forget to put sunscreen, dear," Belinda reminded him, her tone light and playful a she passed him the bottle like any caring mother would.
Alex took the bottle of sunscreen from Belinda, squeezing a dollop into his hand. The smell of coconut filled the air as he spread the lotion over his arms, doing his best to act like this was just another beach day. Belinda, reclining on her towel with her sunglasses perched on her nose, was the picture of relaxation. She gave him a sweet smile, so motherly that it almost made Alex laugh at the absurdity of it all. But he didn't—he knew better.
Troy, already in his swim trunks and a touristy shirt that looked like it had been picked out just for this mission, was standing by the edge of the towels. He nodded toward the ocean, the calm waves lapping at the shore. "Come on, son," he said, voice low but steady. "Let's go cool off. The water's perfect."
Alex got up, tossing the sunscreen bottle back toward Belinda. She caught it effortlessly and waved them off. "I'll stay here and watch the towels," she said, leaning back and adjusting her hat. "Have fun, boys."
Troy gave her a brief nod, and Alex could see the silent communication passing between them. It wasn't about fun or cooling off in the water—it was about moving into position, starting the real work. He followed Troy down the sand, the heat from the sun baking the soles of his feet, until the water kissed his ankles with cool relief.
The sea stretched out before them, bright and endless, dotted with a few people wading in the shallow parts. Troy waded in a few steps deeper, the water lapping at his knees, before turning slightly to face Alex.
"We'll stay out here for a bit," Troy said, keeping his voice casual, as if they were talking about the weather. "It's a good vantage point. Just act normal."
Alex nodded, stepping further into the water, letting it rise to his waist. The ocean was warm, but the sensation of it was refreshing against the sweltering heat. He splashed water onto his face, hoping it would make him look more natural. He wasn't sure how much more pretending he could do without slipping up.
They stood there for a few moments, just watching the waves roll in and out, mingling with the sounds of laughter from the shore. It was almost peaceful, if not for the knot of tension sitting in Alex's chest. His eyes scanned the beach in front of him, looking for anything out of place—anyone watching too closely, anyone lingering where they shouldn't be.
Troy leaned in closer, lowering his voice as if the gentle rush of the waves could somehow carry their conversation to unwanted ears. His gaze remained fixed on the distant island, a small mass of land barely distinguishable in the shimmering horizon.
"You see that island?" Troy gestured subtly toward it, his finger tracing the outline of the distant landmass. "That's our target. Skeleton Key. It looks harmless from here, but trust me, it's anything but."
Alex followed his gaze, squinting against the bright reflection of the sun on the water. The island sat like a dark speck against the vivid blue of the ocean, deceptively serene. It was close enough to see, but just far enough to be unreachable by swimming.
Troy continued, his voice steady but serious. "We need to get close. Check out the surveillance, see what kind of defenses they've got set up. If we go in blind, we're finished before we even start."
Alex's mind was already racing, weighing their options. "And how exactly are you planning to get close without drawing attention? You rent a boat and start snooping around, they'll be on you in minutes."
Troy shot him a look, half-annoyed, half-amused. "You got a better idea?"
Alex paused, glancing around the beach. He could see families splashing in the surf, kids building sandcastles, couples lounging under umbrellas. And just off to the side, a small beach booth was renting out paddle boards—bright, colorful, and utterly unremarkable. A thought clicked into place.
"Yeah," Troy followed Alex's gaze toward the beach booth, where a row of brightly colored paddle boards bobbed gently in the water, tethered to the dock. Families were already climbing into a few of them, laughing and pushing off for a lazy trip around the shallow bay.
Troy raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. "Paddle boards? Really, kid?"
Alex shrugged, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "What's more touristy than renting out one?" he asked, the sarcasm light but sharp. He could already see how they'd blend right into the background noise of vacationers without raising any alarms.
Troy raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but cautious. "And what? You're just going to paddle out there on your own and get a good look at the island?"
"Yeah, why not?" Alex shot back, his eyes narrowing as he thought it through. "A teenager messing around on a paddle board, drifting out too far—it's practically predictable. No one's going to think twice about it. Plus, it gives you an excuse to shout at me to come back, look like a concerned dad playing it safe."
Troy leaned back, folding his arms across his chest, his expression skeptical but considering. "And what are you going to do, exactly? Paddle around Skeleton Key with a camera out in the open?"
Alex rolled his eyes, though there was an edge of amusement in his voice. "I'm not stupid. I'll film it subtly, act like I'm just goofing off with my phone. Worst-case scenario, they see me and think I'm some dumb kid who wandered too close."
Troy rubbed his chin, thinking it over. "And if you get caught?"
"I won't," Alex said confidently. "It's just a paddle boat. No one expects a threat to come from that, especially if it's just a teenager on it."
Troy didn't look entirely convinced, but he gave a firm nod. "Alright, but Alex, you'll be careful. If you see anything out of the ordinary, you'll turn around immediately. No heroics."
"Don't worry, I got it," Alex reassured, though he could sense Troy's protective instinct kicking in.
They walked out of the water, sand sticking to their feet as they made their way back to where Belinda lounged on the towel, her sunglasses perched on her head, watching the tourists bustle around the beach. Alex quickly picked up his phone, already preparing for the mission, tapping into the camera app and setting it to film mode. He slipped it into a water-resistant pouch and strapped it around his neck, making sure it was secure.
"Alex wants to go on a paddle board," Troy explained to Belinda, his tone casual enough, though his eyes held a seriousness that she immediately picked up on.
Belinda glanced between the two of them, her brows furrowing for a moment. She reached out, placing a hand on Alex's shoulder. "Be careful honey."
Alex gave her a confident nod, though the subtle tension in the air didn't escape him. They made their way to the beach booth, where a guy with sunburned skin and a bright yellow life vest stood, organizing paddles and securing rentals. The salty breeze tousled the man's hair, and the scent of sunscreen mixed with the ocean filled the air.
"I would like a paddle boat," Alex said, his voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in his stomach.
The guy, barely looking up from his clipboard, pushed a piece of paper toward Alex. "Room number and signature."
Alex scribbled down the required details, the pen scratching against the paper as he signed. He felt a rush of adrenaline; this was the first step toward getting closer to Skeleton Key.
"Boats are over there," the guy said, pointing lazily to a cluster of colorful paddle boats scattered on the sand. "Life vests are mandatory."
"Alright," Alex replied, already moving toward the red life vests hanging on a rack. He grabbed one and secured it over his chest, making sure it didn't interfere with the waterproof pouch around his neck where his phone was tucked. The phone, now his most crucial piece of equipment, would be his eyes on the island and their ticket to valuable intel.
He selected one of the paddleboards, feeling the gritty texture of the worn-down surface as he dragged it toward the water. The board wasn't much—a typical tourist rental—but it was all he needed. With the rower in hand, he walked down to the shoreline, the warm ocean breeze brushing against his face. The sea was calm, the rhythmic sound of waves lapping against the beach almost soothing.
Once the board was in the water, Alex climbed on, steadying himself as he felt the gentle sway of the ocean beneath him. The sun sparkled like diamonds on the surface, and the salty breeze tousled his hair, filling his lungs with the fresh scent of the sea. Taking a deep breath, he pushed off, his paddle cutting through the water with a rhythmic splash. Each stroke was deliberate, smooth, and measured, helping him blend seamlessly into the tableau of tourists soaking up the sun.
As he glided away from the beach, the lively sounds of laughter and chatter faded, replaced by the soothing lap of waves against the board. The vibrant colors of beach umbrellas and sunbathers blurred into a kaleidoscope of summer fun. Alex felt a rush of exhilaration, a mix of freedom and focus, knowing he was just another teenager enjoying a day on the water.
After paddling in circles for a few moments, he let himself relax into the rhythm of the ocean. The horizon opened up before him, the azure sea stretching endlessly toward the sky. Soon, he set his sights on the island looming in the distance, a dark silhouette against the bright blue. It grew larger with each stroke, a promise of the secrets it held. As he drew closer, the carefree atmosphere began to shift, replaced by a sense of purpose.
The island revealed more details as he approached: sandy shores giving way to rocky outcrops, and patches of lush greenery that swayed in the gentle breeze. He could make out figures moving about, their casual demeanor starkly contrasting the urgency of his mission
As he settled into position, he adjusted his grip on the paddle and angled his phone to capture everything in view. The lens recorded the activities on the island, documenting potential threats, their movements, and the layout of the area.
Just then, a motorboat sped into view, its engine roaring like a predator cutting through the serene environment. The driver, a sun-kissed man wearing a faded tank top and dark sunglasses, raised a hand and shouted, "Hey! You can't go any further! This is private property!"
Alex straightened up, trying to project confidence despite the pounding of his heart. "I won't go far!"
"Doesn't matter!" the man yelled back, his voice stern and unyielding. "You need to turn around! Now!"
Alex glanced back at the island, noting the clusters of people moving around, whispering to one another. "I didn't know!" he called, hoping to defuse the situation.
The man narrowed his eyes, his posture tense. "Tourists don't paddle out here. You don't want to get in trouble, kid. Just paddle back!"
Feeling the pressure mount, Alex nodded, his pulse quickening. "Okay, okay! I'm going!" He turned his paddle board, fighting against the growing waves as the boat's wake rocked him side to side.
"Smart choice!" the man shouted, his tone softening slightly, but still filled with authority. "This isn't a place for kids to play. Get back to the beach!"
"Yeah, I'm heading back," Alex replied, trying to keep his tone light despite the seriousness of the situation. As he began to paddle away, he glanced back one last time, watching the island shrink in the distance.
Just then, the wake from the motorboat caught him off guard, tipping the board. He splashed into the water, the cold shock stealing his breath. As he surfaced, he spat out saltwater and looked around frantically.
"Are you okay?" the driver called amused.
"I'm fine!" Alex replied, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration.
"Better watch out next time!" the man said with a chuckle before speeding off, leaving Alex to navigate his way back, his mind racing with what he had just seen and what lay ahead.
Alex trudged back to the shore, the paddleboard dragging in the water behind him as the sun continued to beat down. His clothes were drenched from the unplanned dip, and his legs felt heavy as he waded through the shallow waves. Handing off the board to the sunburned rental guy, Alex gave a quick nod, muttering a quick thanks before spotting Troy waiting for him at the edge of the beach.
Troy immediately stepped forward, his brow furrowed with concern. "Are you okay? What was that all about?"
Alex ran a hand through his wet hair, brushing the saltwater out of his eyes. "Nothing. Just some jerk with a boat. Told me I couldn't go any farther."
Troy's expression relaxed, but only slightly. He glanced around, scanning the beach as if checking for any signs of trouble. "Right. Well, let's keep a low profile."
Alex nodded, not offering any more details. There was no point in making a scene, not when there were so many eyes and ears around. They needed to act as normal as possible. Without another word, they gathered their things and headed back to the hotel, the three of them slipped back to their hotel suite.
Alex was about to speak up, ready to tell Troy and Belinda what he saw, when Troy suddenly raised his hand, silencing him with a sharp gesture.
Troy's expression turned serious as he scanned the room, his hand slipping into his pocket and pulling out his phone. He tapped the screen and held it up, moving it slowly across the walls, furniture, and corners of the room. Alex recognized the device immediately—a bug checker.
Troy's voice was barely above a whisper as he explained, "Never be too careful. We don't know who might be listening."
Alex watched silently, his stomach twisting with the realization that even their hotel room wasn't safe. Every surface in the room seemed like a potential hiding spot for prying ears. After a few tense moments, Troy nodded, slipping his phone back into his pocket.
"We're clear," he said quietly, his tone still wary. "Now, what did you see out there?"
Alex reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. His fingers moved swiftly, unlocking it and navigating to the video he had filmed out on the water. "It's all in here," he said, his voice steady but tense. "I got close enough to see some of the guards. They were patrolling the perimeter. And the moment I got too close..." He trailed off, glancing at Troy and Belinda before tapping the screen to play the video. "They sent someone out to scare me off."
The room fell into a tense silence as the three of them huddled around the small screen, watching the footage Alex had captured. The shaky camera panned from the open water to the distant island, zooming in on the figures moving along the shoreline. They could make out armed guards pacing methodically, their gazes sharp as they scanned the area. Some guards were positioned at key entry points, while others moved in tight circles, constantly on the lookout.
As the video continued, it captured the moment when the boat approached Alex. The sound of the boat's engine grew louder, and the man driving it could be seen waving at Alex, initially with what seemed like a friendly demeanor. But as he drew closer, his gestures became more insistent, his voice rising—though the words were unintelligible in the video, the threat was clear.
Belinda leaned in, her eyes narrowing as she watched the boat push Alex back. "They didn't waste any time, did they?" she muttered.
"Nope," Alex replied, keeping his eyes on the screen. "The guy came up fast"
The video cut to the moment Alex lost balance, the camera jerking wildly as he plunged into the water. The sound of splashing filled the room, followed by a muffled groan from Alex as the phone hung around his neck caught the chaos.
Troy stroked his chin, absorbing the details in silence. When the video ended, he let out a slow breath. "That confirms it. They're on high alert. No way they'd react like that unless they had something serious to protect."
"I didn't see much more from that distance, but we know they're watching every angle of that island."
Belinda crossed her arms, her expression thoughtful. "And they're not taking any chances. The moment they see someone where they're not supposed to be, they act."
Troy nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration. "We'll have to be smarter about our next move. Subtle. They're not going to let us get close easily."
Troy replayed the video again, his eyes scanning every inch of the footage with sharp attention. Alex leaned in closer, watching the guards and the shoreline in the background. Something had caught Troy's eye, and Alex could feel the gears turning in the older man's head.
Belinda, standing with her arms crossed, spoke up. "What are you thinking, Troy?"
He paused the video and pointed to the corner of the screen. "Look at this spot. Here, near the northern tip of the island."
Alex squinted, following Troy's finger. It was a small, rocky outcrop tucked behind a cluster of trees and shrubs, nearly obscured from view. The guards were clearly patrolling the area nearby, but their routes seemed to avoid that specific section of the island. The guards would walk in large loops around it, but none of them got too close.
Belinda stepped closer to the screen, her brow furrowed. "Are you saying that's a blind spot?"
Troy nodded slowly. "It looks like it. They're watching the obvious access points—the docks, the beach—but this corner... it's covered by the terrain. They probably assume it's inaccessible from the water, or too insignificant to monitor closely."
Alex tilted his head. "So, if we were going to sneak in... that's our best shot?"
"It's risky," Troy said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "But it's the only spot we've seen where they aren't patrolling constantly. It's a natural blind spot, shielded by the rocks and vegetation. If we can get to that point without drawing attention, we might be able to slip in unnoticed."
Belinda nodded, her expression hardening with resolve. "It'll give us a clear view of whatever they're hiding inland. But getting there won't be easy."
Troy leaned in, his voice low. "We can climb our way up. I know a guy who can get us some gear—ropes, harnesses, anything we need."
Belinda's eyes lit up with cautious optimism. "That could work. We go in at night, keep low and quiet. They won't see us coming."
Alex listened intently, his mind racing as he imagined scaling the rugged terrain in the dead of night. "We'll have to be quick, though," he added. "Once we're on the island, we're on their turf."
Troy rubbed his chin, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, we won't have much time. We get in, scope the area, and get out before anyone notices. We're not here to start a fight—just to gather intel."
Belinda crossed her arms, already strategizing. "If we plan this right, we can avoid the patrols. Climbing in from that blind spot will put us in a good position to see what's going on without being spotted."
"alright, dress up, we're going on a family trip to the town" Troy announced
Alex changed out of his wet clothes and into something more fitting for a casual family trip—shorts and a plain t-shirt. He met Troy and Belinda by the door, where Troy had already adopted his "dad-on-vacation" look: a pair of khaki shorts, a Hawaiian shirt, and sunglasses perched on his head. Belinda wore a summer dress, looking every bit the relaxed mother ready for a day out.
"Ready for the excursion?" Troy said with a smile.
"Yeah, let's get going," Alex replied, slipping into the role of the bored teenager.
They walked through the hotel lobby, blending in seamlessly with the other tourists. The sun was high in the sky, beating down on the streets outside. The three of them waved down a taxi, and soon they were on their way, heading toward the nearby town where Troy's contact was waiting.
As the car rolled through the narrow streets, Alex looked out the window. The difference between the polished resorts and the town itself was staggering. The further they got from the beach, the more the poverty became apparent. The once colorful buildings were now faded and chipped, with broken windows and rusted metal gates. Children played in the street with makeshift toys, and Alex could see the strain in the eyes of the adults who sat outside their homes, watching them.
Small shops lined the road, most of them empty or barely stocked. A few people wandered in and out, but there was no life in the place, no hustle or energy like you'd expect from a market town. Alex noticed a woman standing in front of what looked like a grocery store, her shelves nearly bare. Her face was etched with worry, as though the struggle to keep her business alive was written in every line and wrinkle.
He turned to look at Belinda, who was also staring out of the window, her lips pressed together in a tight line. "Hard to believe we're only a few miles away from the resorts," Alex murmured.
Belinda nodded but didn't say anything. Even Troy, usually quick with some lighthearted comment, stayed quiet as the taxi moved deeper into the town.
Eventually, the driver pulled up in front of a small restaurant—nothing fancy, but not completely run-down either. They climbed out of the car, and Troy handed the driver a few bills before leading them inside. The restaurant was quiet, with only a handful of patrons scattered across the tables.
They sat down at a table near the window, giving them a clear view of the street outside. The waitress came over, taking their order. Troy kept his sunglasses on, leaning back in his chair, his eyes scanning the room as they waited for the contact.
Alex glanced around, noticing how thin the menu was. A few basic items, nothing extravagant. He picked up his drink, taking a sip as he continued to observe the town outside. The contrast between the resort life and the local community gnawed at him. It didn't seem right. The people here were scraping by, living under the shadow of luxury they'd never get to experience.
"Looks pretty rough," Alex muttered under his breath.
Troy glanced at him, giving a slight nod. "Yeah, well... it's the way it goes in places like this. The tourists bring money, but it doesn't always make its way to the people who live here."
Before Alex could respond, the door to the restaurant opened, and a man stepped in. He was dressed simply, but there was something about the way he moved that made Alex sit up a little straighter. This had to be the contact.
Troy straightened in his chair, nodding subtly as the man made his way to their table. He slid into the seat across from Troy, his expression unreadable
"Everything's set?" Troy asked under his breath.
The man gave a small nod, putting a bag on the floor "Everything you need is in here. Climbing gear, rope, and something extra in case things get... complicated."
Troy took the envelope, sliding it into his pocket. "Thanks. We'll make it quick.
The man didn't linger, standing up and leaving just as quietly as he'd arrived. The entire exchange had been seamless, unnoticed by the other patrons of the restaurant
Troy downed the rest of his drink, signaling for the check. "Alright, we've got what we need. Let's get out of here before anyone starts asking questions."
They returned to the hotel in silence, the weight of what lay ahead hanging heavily in the air. Troy was focused, his eyes distant as he mentally prepared for the mission, while Belinda maintained her usual calm demeanor, though Alex noticed her fingers drumming lightly against her leg. He felt the tension simmering beneath the surface, and it fueled his own sense of urgency.
Once back in their room, the trio gathered around the small table. Troy spread out a basic map of the island, marking the blind spot they had identified earlier.
"We make our move tonight," Troy said, his voice low but firm. "The sooner we get this done, the better. We can't risk staying here any longer than necessary. If they catch on to us snooping, it's over."
Belinda nodded, leaning over the map. "We'll head out under the cover of darkness."
Alex glanced down at the map, tracing the route they'd have to take. The island looked deceptively small, but he knew it would be crawling with security, and the terrain itself wasn't exactly friendly. "What time do we leave?"
Troy checked his watch. "We wait until about midnight. Fewer eyes, and those who are still on duty will be tired."
Belinda stood, stretching slightly. "We should all rest. It's going to be a long night."
Alex nodded, though he knew there was no way he'd be able to sleep. His mind was already racing with possibilities, imagining the worst-case scenarios. Instead, he sat by the window, watching as the daylight slowly faded into twilight, the sounds of the resort humming around them. Laughter and music drifted up from the pool area below, a stark contrast to the tension brewing in their room.
By the time the sun had completely set, casting a deep purple over the horizon, Troy and Belinda had gathered their gear. Alex watched as Troy carefully inspected the climbing equipment, double-checking every knot and strap.
"Remember," Troy said quietly, strapping a small pack to his back, "we're not here to start a fight. We go in, gather intel, and get out. Fast and clean."
Alex nodded. This wasn't his first mission, but it was the first time he'd felt like the stakes were this high. If they were caught, it wouldn't just be a simple extraction—there would be no escape.
Belinda glanced at the clock. "It's time."
The three of them moved silently through the dimly lit hallways of the hotel, avoiding the main areas where tourists were still enjoying their evenings. They slipped out a side exit and into the warm night air. The beach was almost deserted, the soft sound of the waves lapping against the shore providing a soothing rhythm as they made their way to the small boat Troy had arranged.
It was a simple vessel, nothing that would draw attention, but sturdy enough to get them across the water to Skeleton Key. Alex climbed in after Troy, his eyes scanning the dark horizon. The island loomed in the distance, a shadowy shape against the night sky. He could make out the faint glow of lights from what must have been the guards' stations, but otherwise, the place was eerily quiet.
The boat glided silently through the inky black water, the soft splashes of their paddles barely disturbing the night. The sea seemed to stretch endlessly around them, swallowing sound and light. Only the faint glow of the moon reflected off the rippling surface, casting eerie, silvery streaks across the water. The island loomed ahead, its jagged cliffs rising like dark shadows, barely visible against the sky.
Alex kept his head low as they neared the rocky shore. The island had no welcoming lights or signs of civilization—just the dense darkness and the sense of something dangerous lurking within. They approached cautiously, their boat making a gentle bump as it came up against a large rock jutting out from the water. Alex quickly secured the rope, tying the boat to the rock to keep it steady.
Troy turned toward him, his voice low but firm. "You'll stay here, alright?"
Alex opened his mouth to protest, ready to insist that he could handle more than being left behind, but Troy cut him off before he could even speak. "There's no arguing," Troy said, his tone final. "We need you to keep lookout. If something goes wrong up there, we'll need a fast escape, and that's your job. You're our eyes and ears down here."
Alex sighed but nodded, accepting the role, even though every instinct in him itched to follow them up the cliffs. Troy rummaged through the pack slung over his shoulder, pulling out a pair of binoculars and handing them to Alex. "Here, they've got night vision," Troy added. "Keep an eye on us, and more importantly, on the shore. If anyone comes, you let us know."
Alex took the binoculars, feeling the weight of responsibility settle over him. He wasn't thrilled to stay back, but Troy was right—they needed someone watching their backs.
Troy and Belinda moved with quiet precision, harnessing themselves up and securing the ropes for their climb. Alex watched as they clipped onto the lines, their faces barely visible in the dim light. With a final glance at him, Troy nodded, and they began their ascent. The two figures blended into the rugged cliffside, their dark clothing making them nearly invisible as they scaled the steep rock face.
Through the night vision lenses of the binoculars, Alex tracked their progress. Troy led the way, his movements deliberate and cautious, with Belinda close behind, each of them pulling themselves higher with practiced ease. The rocks were sharp and uneven, but they made their way up without incident, disappearing into the shadows at the top.
Once they vanished from view, Alex lowered the binoculars, feeling the stillness of the night close in around him. The quiet was almost suffocating, broken only by the gentle lap of the waves against the boat and the distant rustling of wind through the trees on the island. He glanced around, his eyes scanning the water and shoreline, but there was nothing—just the endless expanse of ocean and the faint outline of the cliffs ahead.
He was completely alone. The only light came from the moon, which cast a pale glow over the water, but it did little to pierce the thick darkness that enveloped him. There wasn't much he could do now but wait, his senses on high alert for any sign of movement.
Alex's hands tightened around the binoculars, his thoughts racing. He wasn't used to being the one left behind, out of the action.
He glanced back up at the cliffs, but there was no sign of Troy or Belinda. They were on their own now, deep in enemy territory, and all he could do was wait, his eyes constantly shifting between the island and the sea. His heart pounded in his chest as minutes dragged by, each one feeling longer than the last.
The minutes dragged on as Alex waited, the oppressive silence stretching across the water like a taut wire ready to snap. He didn't know how long he'd been there. It was too dark to check the time on his watch, and he didn't dare light up his phone, afraid that even the smallest glow would give him away. The night was still, except for the occasional lap of waves against the boat's hull. Every shadow, every whisper of wind, made his muscles tense. He kept his binoculars in hand, scanning the cliffs, looking for any sign of Troy and Belinda.
Then, without warning, the island came alive.
Suddenly, bright lights flared to life, sweeping across the rocky shoreline and spilling over the water like a blinding wave. Alex ducked instinctively, his heart racing. He pressed himself flat against the boat, his breath caught in his throat. He was hidden, tucked away near the rocks, but the surge of panic was undeniable. He waited, not daring to move, as floodlights scanned the beach and cliffs above.
He brought his binoculars up to his eyes, adjusting quickly to the sudden brightness, his pulse thundering in his ears. He could see guards now—dozens of them—rushing around in a frenzy. Some were shouting orders, others running toward the cliffs where Troy and Belinda had climbed. His stomach clenched. Had they been caught?
The pounding of his heart echoed in his ears as the uncertainty clawed at him. What if they had been discovered? What if there was no escape? He gritted his teeth, torn between waiting and rushing up there, but he had no way of scaling the cliff. His eyes stayed glued to the chaos above, searching for any sign of them.
Then, gunfire erupted—sharp, cracking shots that shattered the night's quiet like breaking glass. The sound sent a chill down Alex's spine. He stiffened, hearing the unmistakable sound of a woman's scream. He knew that voice—Belinda. His chest tightened with dread.
"Belinda!" Alex whispered harshly under his breath, desperation flooding through him. His eyes darted back and forth, but all he could see were the guards scrambling, shadows moving through the trees.
A moment later, there was a loud splash—someone had jumped into the water. The sound came from not too far away, and Alex's heart leaped into his throat. His binoculars shot to the source, trying to make out who had jumped. A figure broke the surface, thrashing in the water. Even in the dim light, Alex recognized the outline—it was Troy. But something was wrong. Troy wasn't swimming; he was sinking.
Without a second thought, Alex tossed the binoculars aside and jumped into the cold water. The shock of the sea hit him like a wall, but adrenaline kept him moving. He pushed through the waves, searching for Troy beneath the surface. "Troy!" he called out, his voice raw and urgent.
He spotted the man just as he was slipping under again. Blood stained the water around him in faint, spreading clouds. "I've been shot," Troy gasped when Alex reached him, his voice weak, barely audible over the slapping of the waves.
Alex grabbed him, wrapping his arm around Troy's chest and kicking hard to keep them both afloat. The weight was overwhelming—Troy was twice his size, and the blood loss was making him dead weight. The waves hit them relentlessly, sloshing into Alex's face, forcing him to swallow saltwater as he fought to keep them from sinking.
"Where's Belinda?" Alex asked, though he already feared the answer.
Troy's face contorted in pain, his breathing ragged. "She's dead," he rasped, the words like stones dropping between them.
Alex's stomach lurched, but there was no time to process the loss. He dragged Troy toward the boat, each kick an agonizing effort. The salt water burned his eyes, his muscles screamed from the strain, but he wouldn't—couldn't—stop.
With every stroke, the boat seemed further away, but Alex forced himself to keep going. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached the boat. Hauling Troy's limp form over the side was almost impossible, but Alex found a surge of strength. Alex's breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving as he struggled to regain control. His arms ached, his muscles burning from the effort of pulling Troy into the boat. The cold sea breeze whipped at his wet skin, but there was no time to rest. The lights from the island flickered in the distance, and the sounds of shouting echoed across the water. They were running out of time.
He grabbed the oars, hands trembling, and dipped them into the water. Each stroke was an effort, his exhausted body barely able to keep up with the demands of rowing. He could feel Troy's weight shifting in the boat behind him, his labored breathing shallow and uneven.
"Hang on, Troy," Alex said, his voice hoarse. He didn't dare look back, but he could feel the older man's life slipping away with every passing second. The urgency gnawed at him, but he had to focus on getting them out of there. He had to move faster.
The waves slapped against the boat, making progress slow and punishing. Each pull of the oars was agony, but Alex gritted his teeth and pushed through the pain. He had to. The island was a death trap, and staying too close would mean they'd both end up like Belinda.
He chanced a glance over his shoulder, the moonlight casting a pale glow over Troy's face. His eyes were half-closed, his face ashen and slick with sweat. Blood seeped from his wound, staining the bottom of the boat dark red, pooling around Troy's body. Alex swallowed hard, a knot tightening in his throat. The grim realization hit him—Troy wasn't going to make it. He was dying, and there was nothing Alex could do to stop it.
"Just a little further," Alex muttered, more to himself than to Troy. His arms ached with each stroke, his shoulders screaming in protest. Every muscle in his body begged him to stop, but he couldn't. He wouldn't. Not until they were safe.
Troy coughed weakly, a wet, rattling sound that sent a shiver down Alex's spine. "Alex…" Troy's voice was barely a whisper, and Alex felt the weight of it like a punch to the gut. He didn't want to hear what Troy was going to say. He didn't want to face the reality of it.
"Save your strength," Alex replied, his voice tight. "We're almost there."
But they both knew it was a lie.
The shore was still a distant blur on the horizon, waves crashing softly against the boat, but it felt like an eternity away. Alex's arms burned from rowing, each pull of the oars sending pain shooting through his muscles, but he couldn't stop now. Behind them, the island was lit up like a beacon, guards swarming the cliffs, but no boats had been dispatched yet. They still had time—but not much.
Troy lay motionless beside him, his breathing labored, the water in the boat tinged red with blood. Alex glanced down at the man, his heart hammering in his chest. He wasn't sure if Troy would make it to shore, but he couldn't let him die here, not like this.
"Hang in there," Alex muttered, gritting his teeth as he pulled the oars again, harder this time. "We're almost there."
The boat scraped against the sand as they finally reached the shore. Alex stumbled out, the sand cool under his feet, and rushed to Troy's side. "Come on," he urged, grabbing Troy's arm and hauling him up. He threw it around his own neck, trying to support the man's weight, but Troy was limp, his body heavy with exhaustion and blood loss.
Alex barely managed a few steps before Troy collapsed onto the sand, pulling Alex down with him. Alex's knees hit the ground hard, but he barely felt it. All he could focus on was Troy, lying pale and broken in the moonlight.
"Alex…" Troy's voice was barely a whisper, his face twisted in pain as he struggled to breathe. "I can't… I can't do this."
"Yes, you can," Alex said, panic rising in his chest. He knelt beside Troy, pressing his hands over the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. His palms were slick with blood, and it just kept coming, soaking through his fingers. "It's going to be okay. You're going to be fine."
Troy shook his head, his eyes fluttering closed. "No… no, I'm not."
"Stop it," Alex's voice broke, tears welling up in his eyes as he shook his head in disbelief. "You're going to be fine, just hold on. We're almost there." He looked around, desperate, as if someone might magically appear out of the darkness to help. But there was no one. Just him and Troy, and the sound of the waves crashing in the background.
"Alex," Troy gasped, his hand weakly grabbing Alex's wrist. "You need to… call the CIA. They… they can get you out."
"Shut up," Alex said, tears finally spilling down his cheeks. "Don't say that. You're going to make it, okay? Just—just hang on a little longer."
Troy's hand fell from Alex's wrist, his chest rising and falling in shallow, ragged breaths. "I'm… sorry," he whispered, his voice fading.
Alex's hands shook as he pressed down harder on the wound, trying to keep Troy's life from slipping away, but he could feel it. He could feel Troy slipping, his body growing colder, his breaths more labored. The man's eyes glazed over, staring blankly up at the sky as the last breath escaped his lips.
"No," Alex choked out, shaking his head in denial. "No, no, no."
But it was too late.
Troy was gone.
Alex sat there in the sand, the weight of it all crashing down on him. The mission, Belinda's death, Troy's sacrifice—it all hit him at once, and he couldn't hold back the sobs that wracked his body. He had seen death before, but this was different. This wasn't just another casualty. Troy had been fighting for his life, and Alex had been right there, watching him slip away, helpless to stop it. It had just been a day and everything had already gone wrong.
In his grief, Alex was blind to the world around him. His chest heaved with sobs as he knelt beside Troy's lifeless body, feeling the weight of everything crash down on him. The waves lapped at the shore, the moon cast a soft glow on the beach, and the night stretched on, uncaring of the tragedy that had just unfolded.
He didn't see the boat approaching.
His first and only warning was the sharp prick of a needle piercing his neck. There was no time to react—just a sudden, overwhelming wave of dizziness crashing over him as strong hands shoved him away from Troy's body.
Alex hit the sand hard, the world spinning as he tried to push himself up. But his limbs felt heavy, his vision blurred, and the strength he'd used to pull Troy from the water moments ago seemed to drain from him in an instant.
He turned his head just enough to see shadows—figures moving toward him. A boat, now moored on the shore, barely visible in his fading consciousness. He tried to speak, tried to fight, but his body wouldn't respond.
One of the shadows knelt beside him, their features hidden in the darkness. The last thing Alex felt was cold hands lifting him, his mind slipping into unconsciousness as everything went black.
Comment response:
maria260686: thank you, hope you dont prefer Troy and Belinda Alive 😅. the only reason I made them nicer was for their deaths to hit Alex harder, because he can't have nice things