The waves moved in silver silence, the moonlight folding over the dark water. A single yacht floated near the horizon, anchored just beyond the coast, sleek, black, and unmarked, its lights dimmed to nothing but a faint, golden glow beneath the deck. It was a ship meant for ghosts, and tonight, two of them met on its deck. Deborah Valmere stood near the railing, her silk coat caught by the sea breeze, her reflection trembling in the water below. The wind carried the faint scent of salt and metal, and somewhere beneath it, the phantom trace of gunpowder from Geneva still clung to her memory. Behind her, footsteps sounded, slow, deliberate, familiar. “You came,” a deep voice said. She turned. Luther Cain emerged from the shadows, wearing a black coat that matched the night itself. His face was half-lit by the faint light spilling through the glass cabin, revealing the sharp, sculpted lines that had haunted her dreams, and her nightmares. For a moment, neither spoke. The sile
Last Updated : 2026-02-08 Read more