It had been only four days since Kellen had arrived at the mainland hospital, and those days had been busy, filled with doctors, medications and her reunion with Rae, and in that time, they hadn’t told Rae about Luna’s death. Kellen knew the time was rapidly approaching. But how to tell a child that her beloved dog had died a hero?

Max gave Kellen a sideways look, and continued, “The nurse is Tichi Barlow. She’s impressed with Ruby’s mental and physical health. Ruby’s appetite is good, and she’s been speaking to the construction team about what needs to be done to the house.”

“She sounds like a remarkable woman.” As soon as Max sent word, Verona had returned from Italy, and she said, “If Miss Morgade’s in such good shape, why did we have to come so quickly? Kellen’s barely healed.”

Max glanced back at his mother, then at Kellen.

“I had a gut feeling we should come as soon as possible.” Kellen wasn’t trying to be dramatic, just truthful.

“All right. Yes. That’s a good reason,” Verona acknowledged.

Kellen inclined her head, and glanced down at her hands, one wrapped and taped, the other in need of physical therapy. She sighed. As soon as she got back to Yearning Sands Resort, she would be practicing the piano again…but without Luna and her complaints.

Her eyes filled with tears, but she forced them back and swallowed.

As Max made his first pass over the island, Rae chatted at Verona. “This is it, Grandma. Isla Paraíso. Isn’t it neat? Don’t you love it?”

“It’s very pretty. So isolated. Who could imagine such a thing off the California coast?” Verona craned her neck to see what was below.

As did Kellen. She strained to get a sense of the violence that had occurred here. Instead she saw the serene beauty of the island: the sandy beaches and crashing waves, the mighty oaks and grazing deer. The evidence of the truck’s explosion had been obliterated by the grasses that, with the rain, had turned a brilliant green and grown gloriously tall. “Mara Philippi left no mark,” she muttered.

“None on the island,” Max answered. He meant that she, Kellen, had been marked.

Yes, she had, marked by the fight, marked by the torture, marked by Luna’s loss. Her hand had required extensive repair, she’d needed minor surgery to remove a piece of the bicycle’s spoke and, once again, she had lost most of her hair, singed away from the fire that had blasted out of the F-100.

But she didn’t care. She was healing, Max and Rae had survived their harrowing trip across the storm-tossed ocean, Rae had recovered—and Mara was dead. Completely, DNA tested and certified dead.

“Mother, there.” Max pointed. “There’s the house.”

“It’s a mansion. Out here,” Verona marveled.