CHAPTER 3

​"Well?" Julian took another step closer, his boots loud on the wet rocks. 

Before she could even take a step, Julian caught the movement in the shadows. In a flash of terrifyingly fluid speed, he closed the distance between them.

​Vivian was slammed backward against the rough brick wall. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs, but it was the sudden, overwhelming proximity of his body that made her vision spin. 

Julian pinned her there, his large, callused hand coming down right next to her ear, the rough brick scraping his knuckles. He leaned in so close she could feel the intense, radiating heat of his chest pressing against her silk blouse, the scent of rain, expensive tobacco, and raw timber filling her senses.

​"Give me one good reason I shouldn't break your neck right here, Vance," Julian growled, his voice a deep, gravelly rasp that vibrated straight through her spine.

​His dark eyes burned down into hers, blazing with a dangerous, volatile mix of old hatred and a sudden, fierce intensity that made her breath catch. He looked dangerous, lethal, and entirely intoxicating.

​Vivian didn't flinch. She leaned into his space, her eyes locking onto his lips before rising to meet his furious gaze with a calm, deliberate challenge. "Because in thirty days, the ocean is going to swallow this city whole, Julian. And I'm the only person who can keep you from drowning."

He didn't understand what she said. He thought she was saying nonsense.

He tilted the silver metal toward her. "I'm waiting, Vivian. Do I call Marcus and tell him his little girlfriend is hiding things in the dark, or do you want to explain why you’re covered in dirt and smell like oil?"

​Vivian didn’t look at his phone. She looked straight into his eyes. They were dark, guarded, and full of distrust. This was the Julian from four years ago. The one she had hurt. He wasn't her savior yet; he was just a guy who had been burned, coming back to look at the damage out of spite.

​She forced her body to relax. She let her shoulders drop and left the crowbar lying in the dirt.

​"Call him," she said flatly.

​Julian’s thumb stopped over his phone screen. His eyebrows went up, a look of genuine surprise that he tried to hide behind a smirk. "Don't bluff, Vance. I don't care about that guy. If I call him, it’s because I want to watch him ruin you."

​"Then call him," Vivian said, taking a step toward him, her wet hair sticking to her face. "Tell him I’m at the old transit yard. Tell him I found a massive bunker full of survival food, medicine, and radios. Do you know what Marcus will do, Julian? He’ll be here in ten minutes with a truck full of guys. He’ll take everything, and then he’ll spend the next three years trying to lock you out of your own family's company files."

​Julian’s smile vanished. The look on his face turned dark and dangerous. "What did you just say?"

​"You think you’re the only one watching the weather data?" Vivian lied, using what she knew from her past life to push him. She stepped right into his space, smelling the rain and tobacco on his coat. "You think your family is the only one that noticed the ocean currents are collapsing? My dad built this place because he knew the weather was going to break. And he left me the files to find it."

​Julian didn't blink. He stared at her face, looking for the tiny shake, the flush of skin, or the fast breathing of the weak girl he used to know. But she didn't budge. Vivian stood her ground, her eyes totally steady.

​"Marcus doesn't know about this place," Julian muttered, his voice dropping low as he processed everything.

​"Marcus thinks I bought the coastal villa because I’m a crazy girl who had a bad dream," Vivian said, a cold smile crossing her face. "He’s currently moving his entire life into a glass house on the edge of the cliffs. He thinks he’s winning. He has no idea that when the storm hits, the ocean is going to dump forty feet of water right through his front door."

​Julian stared at her for a long, silent moment. The wind blew hard through the empty tracks. Then, a short, dry laugh escaped his throat. He genuinely couldn't believe what he was hearing.

​"Wow," he whispered, shaking his head. "You didn't just buy a house. You built a trap."

​"He built it himself," Vivian said, her voice dropping to a cold whisper. "I just gave him the keys."

​Julian looked down at the silver key in his hand, then backed up at her. The sarcasm was still there, but it was being replaced by intense curiosity.

"And what about me, Vivian? Why am I here? The last time we spoke, you stood in front of a whole room of people and told everyone my family was a bunch of vultures trying to steal from your dead dad. Have you forgotten?"