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Ten minutes into the run, we round the corner of the dense forest, approaching the quiet side of the shoreline. The ocean waves murmur in the distance. It’s a moment of peace, a rare oasis in the turmoil of our lives.
Before we reach the shore, something breaks the silence. A whirring mechanical sound that quickens my pulse.
“Do you hear that?” I slow my gait, reaching for her arm.
“What is it?” Her eyes widen as she looks around.
“It sounds like—”
The noise grows louder, more insistent, coming from above.
“Take cover!” Stanley shouts.
The guards leap into motion as I lunge, crashing into her and taking her to the ground. We roll off the path into the dense trees, landing with my frame covering her protectively.
The guards rush in, forming a wall around us as the buzzing object falls from the sky and slams onto the trail.
I brace for an explosion that doesn’t come.
“Stay down.” My heart thunders in my chest.
“What is it?” Her breath heats my neck, her body trembling beneath me.
“I don’t know. Just stay still.”
An agonizing minute ticks, ticks, ticks.
“It’s a drone,” Stanley says. “There’s a box attached to it.”
My stomach sinks as I stare down at her, at the wetness blurring her eyes.
“Open it.” I hold her devastated gaze.
The sound of ripping cardboard rings like a death knell.
“Dry ice,” Stanley announces. “And something in a plastic bag.”
Her face crumples.
“Take it to the house. No police.” Turning back to her, I cradle her head and hug her to me. “Can you stand?”
“Yeah.”
The guards carry the box back to the house. We follow them into the kitchen, where Oliver prepares dinner.
His expression empties when he sees the box. “Another one?”
“Delivered by a drone.” I don gloves, my fingers steady despite the dread fisting in my gut.
Then I open the box.
Sickening vapors of déjà vu rise from the dry ice. I pull out a frost-covered plastic bag, set it on the counter, and cut it open.
Not a heart.
Not a hand.
Blue irises stare up at me from a severed pair of eyes.
