The crowd had gone silent—The kind of silence that spread when power walked into a room.
Or in this case—Onto a yacht.
Hanalei stood frozen near the gangplank, every instinct in her body screaming at her to disappear.
Unfortunately, there was nowhere to disappear to when your father had apparently arrived with half the federal government.
Kieran D'Angelo stood in front of her like judgment itself.
Suit perfect tailored, expression unreadable.
Behind him, agents stood like statues, scanning every corner of the yacht.
Nobody moved or breathed.
"Hanalei," Kieran repeated, his voice calm.
"Get in the car."
Fear climbed up Hanalei's spine.
"Dad, I can explain—"
"No. You can explain," Kieran said quietly, "inside the car."
Oh no.
Oh no no no.
Not the calm voice.
The calm voice was worse.
The calm voice meant somebody's rights were about to disappear.
Beside her, Valerie looked moments away from spiritually evacuating her body.
