BLURRY | SPRINA

Chapter Twenty - Six

The sound of sirens cut through the night as red and blue lights reflected off the dark waters surrounding the pier. Spencer sat on the edge of the dock, chest rising and falling heavily, trying to steady himself despite the pain radiating through his body. His ribs ached, his arm throbbed, and the metallic scent of blood clung to him. But he was alive.

Below him, the launch driver was still—too still— as blood flooded the boat.

Spencer glanced up as the ambulance finally pulled onto the dock, paramedics rushing toward them. He allowed himself to lean back, exhaustion beginning to creep in now that the danger had passed. His mind, however, was still spinning.

Esme.

The Find My app.

The footage.

He hadn't meant to see it, but after instinctively opening his phone to warn her, he had been hit with a gut-wrenching truth—she had been there.

During the attack.

And the security footage confirmed it.

Esme had guided the hitman into position.

She had set him up.

The paramedics loaded him onto the gurneys, and as Spencer lay back, staring at the ambulance ceiling, he made a decision.

He wasn't going to expose Esme.

Not yet.

If she had betrayed him once, she could do it again. And the only way to stay ahead was to make sure she never saw him coming.

For now, he would play the part of the clueless survivor.

Let her think she had won.

Let her believe he hadn't seen her.

Because when he made his move—he wanted her to feel it.

—

General Hospital

The bright lights of the emergency room were almost blinding as Spencer was wheeled through the halls. His body screamed in protest as he sat in the waiting area, but he barely reacted, his focus elsewhere.

A few stitches, some pain meds—he could handle all of that. What he needed to worry about now was what came next.

The police had arrived within minutes of his admission, their faces serious as they questioned him about the attack. Spencer told them everything—well, almost everything.

He recounted stepping onto the island, the eerie feeling that warned him something was wrong, the gunshots, the fight, and his desperate escape.

But Esme's involvement?

That, he left out.

He needed time to gather more information, to make sure there was no one else involved before he struck. If Esme had plotted this, there was a chance she wasn't working alone.

"Do you have any enemies who might want to harm you?" one of the detectives asked.

Spencer let out a dry laugh. "You'd need a notebook for that list."

The detective frowned but nodded, jotting down a few more notes.

"We'll investigate, but if you remember anything else, give us a call."

Spencer nodded. "Of course."

As the officer stepped away, Spencer exhaled, letting his head fall back against the seat. He closed his eyes for just a second—