The rain woke me.

Cold drops hit my chest and face, pulling me from a half-drunk stupor. Whiskey burned at the back of my throat. The bottle lay on its side beside the lounger, empty. The storm was fitting. The night had earned it.

How long had I been out?

I pushed off the chair, water dripping from my hair as I stepped inside. The villa was too quiet.

"Mama Cortez? Camila?"

Nothing.

I moved through the villa, checking every room. Kitchen, Living room, Garden, all empty. The silence felt ...