Louise and her doctors faded into the background, running diagnostics and settling their patient into a new routine.

“Can...can I help you?” I crossed my arms over Sully’s black shirt and narrowed my eyes.

“We have questions, ma’am.” One of the uniformed men stepped toward me. “We are not permitted to leave these shores until our questions have been answered.”

I braced my shoulders. “You’ve been staying here?”

“Our superior’s orders.” The man who seemed in charge wore a badge stating his name was Susilo and had a bigger array of emblems and insignias on his uniform than the rest of his decorated team. “When will Mr. Sinclair be awake for questioning?”

“Like I told you before,” Louise muttered, “he’s in a coma. That means his brain is operating at the lowest levels of alertness with minimal recognition and abilities.”

The policeman looked her up and down. “How long will the coma last? We are busy men. We have other things to investigate.”

“I told you.” Louise threw me an exasperated look before brushing aside her sweaty auburn hair. “Mr. Sinclair cannot initiate voluntary actions in his current state. That means he will not respond to any stimuli, such as light, sound, or pain.” She finished pressing a few buttons on the heart rate monitor before adding, “We have no timeframe for when he’ll wake from the coma. This is not medically induced. Mr. Sinclair suffered a highly traumatic event with multiple heart failure episodes, and we are unsure if he will wake naturally. He might slip into a vegetative state where the chances of him being a fully functional individual diminishes to approximately eleven percent. Even if he woke today, there’s no saying his cognitive abilities won’t be damaged or he won’t suffer from amnesia. So, gentlemen...”

She walked toward the police. “I must request you stop harassing my patient because he is too unwell to assist you and will continue to be for the foreseeable future.”

I wanted to high five her. Instead, I took the baton and joined her fight. “I’ll help.” I stiffened as all five men peered at me. “You? You’re aware of Mr. Sinclair’s dealings and—”

“I’m aware.”

“In that case.” Dismissing his entourage, the leader, Susilo, waved his arm toward the deck outside Sully’s bedroom. “We talk outside, yes?”

I glanced at Sully.

His pallor had paled again, his pulse not as steady.

I shook my head. “In here.” Moving toward the bed, I sat beside him and linked my fingers with his. Like in the helicopter, it took a few moments for the monitor to register a stronger heartbeat, but it did. The rhythm steadied and vitality returned to his cheeks.

Damn you, Sully.

I didn’t know if I should be honoured that my touch had such an effect on him or terrified. I didn’t want power over his life or death. I didn’t want to go to the bathroom and return to find him in heart failure because I’d left.

I squeezed his hand as the police grabbed chairs from around Sully’s lounge and brought them into his bedroom. They arranged them as if I was the suspect and they were the jury.

Keeping my back ramrod straight, I asked, “What questions do you need answering?”

Susilo pulled out an electronic device from his front blazer pocket and pulled a stylus from the side. Turning on the screen, he brought up a document before looking at me with a suspicious stare. “Almost one week ago, Sullivan Sinclair—the man lying unconsciousness beside you—fell from a helicopter along with another man who’d been shot in the stomach.”

I stiffened. “That man was a mercenary hired by Drake Sinclair to kill Sullivan and everything he cared about.”

He scribbled something on his e-pad. “That is the reason for the three phone calls we received asking for our help?”

“Three?” My eyebrows rose.

He referred to his notes. “We received a call from Mr. Ross Grace via the American embassy in Jakarta. He said his daughter was in grave danger and gave coordinates to this group of private islands.”

Goosebumps washed over me.

Dad.

Oh, my God, he’d called. My hastily formed and frankly feeble plan had actually worked.

I need to call him. He needs to know I’m okay.

“The second call was from a local fisherman who spoke of bribes and bad karma. He mentioned he dropped a woman off on the request of the man you just mentioned...Drake Sinclair.”

“That’s right.” I nodded. “That was me. I hitched a ride back here after a misunderstanding meant I’d been flown away.” Not giving them time to ask more questions, I asked one of my own. “And the third?”

“The third was from a Mr. Arbi Pambudi who claims he is in the employ of Mr. Sinclair but is nowhere to be found on this island.” He pinned me with his black stare, his equally dark hair glistening in the sun. “Dr Campbell and Mr. Calvin Moor have been obtuse with their answers. They informed us that Drake Sinclair tried to take over this island and bombed another in the private cluster called Serigala.” His gaze returned to his notes, skimming other interviews no doubt extracted from Campbell and Cal while we’d been in Geneva. “They state that Drake Sinclair flew off with an Eleanor Grace, and that’s the last of their knowledge.”

“If you’re aware of the unwanted invasion and the illegal attempts at theft by Sullivan’s older brother, why are you still here? We did nothing wrong. Sullivan was protecting his shores and me. He was tortured at the hands of his brother.” I pointed at Sully’s still bruised and healing body. “See for yourself. He blinded him, drugged him, and inflicted as much misery as he could, all because Sully refused to give him what he asked for. We are not the criminals here, sir. Drake is.”

“I agree that Mr. Sinclair seems to be the victim, as are you. However, we need to account for the body we scooped out of the sea. We also need to verify why Mr. Sinclair refused questioning and left with multiple broken bones before he’d been cleared of any wrongdoing. The fact that he ran away from law enforcement after we were summoned here by three separate calls for help is...suspicious.”

“Not suspicious. He was chasing after me. I was in danger.”

“And how did he end up in heart failure and a coma?”

“His brother.”

“How?” He scribbled my answers down, poised for the next one. “I am unaware of a weapon that would cause cardiac arrest. Why not use a more common method of violence?”

Common?

I bit the inside of my cheek, swallowing any mention of Euphoria and the virtual reality weapon that’d broken a brother’s mind. No longer a human but a creature left on the couch, drooling and defecating, a vegetable beyond repair...until I had him killed.

Doing my best not to seem guilty of murder—even if it was justified and merciful—I said, “Sully’s system shut down due to overexertion. The stress of protecting me, of seeking vengeance for all the animals and human lives that Drake stole when he bombed Serigala, of doing his best to fix what his brother had ruined—it all took a toll.” I squeezed his fingers, my temper brushing aside my tiredness and making me snap. “The only enemy here is Drake. He would’ve raped and killed me if Sully hadn’t arrived in time. Sully gave up his life so he could save mine. Therefore, I would appreciate you close whatever report you need to and allow him to recuperate in peace.”