Chapter 552

Chapter 552:
“Check this out,” Myron said, his tone low and conspiratorial. He grabbed an object and carefully set it atop a nearby stone.
In an instant, the stone ignited, flames twisting upward in a swirl of blue and gold, casting strange shadows over their faces.
“Wow!” Millie took a startled step back, her lips parting in awe.
“Doesn’t it look like a heart set on fire?” Myron asked, a mischievous grin flashing across his face.
Excitement danced in Millie’s eyes, her whole expression alight with wonder. It was almost uncanny how much it resembled a heart.
The flame quickly flickered out, but Myron’s attention never wavered—he watched Millie with an intensity that sent a thrill down her spine, as if he could see the same wild spark kindling in her eyes. For original chapters go to
He laced his fingers through hers, steady and certain, and led her onward, weaving through the bustling crowd until they reached the heart of the island—a sprawling square ablaze with life.
At its center, a towering bonfire roared, its flames illuminating a swirling sea of dancers dressed in vibrant, unfamiliar costumes. Laughter and music rose into the night.
Without a word, Myron took Millie’s hand and swept her into the rhythm of the dancers. They stood inches apart, Millie’s eyes fixed on Myron’s masked face, flickering in the firelight.
Millie gazed up at him, her pulse racing. For a moment, she had the disorienting sense that she’d seen him like this before.
A motorboat tore across the waves toward the island, churning up a frothy wake behind it. At the helm, Egbert muttered a steady stream of curses, his eyes narrowed with impatience.
He gripped something in his hand, but the object stayed hidden in the shadows. “Myron, you slippery bastard, just wait till I get my hands on you!” Egbert bellowed over the roar of the engine.
The moment the bow scraped the shore, he leapt off without waiting for the boat to stop, landing hard on the sand.
Egbert barely broke stride, yanking out his phone to check the latest intel from his network. A new message flashed on the screen: “She’s caught in a dance, right in the middle of the bustling central square.”
With a muttered curse, Egbert broke into a sprint, racing toward the central square.
In the center of the bustling square, Millie gazed at Myron, her mind drifting to a distant winter night. Christmas—the air heavy with the scent of mulled wine and fresh snow, music spilling into the streets as revelers whirled across the icy square.
Amid the chaos, a masked man with a faint trace of blood on his sleeve had pulled her close, winding his thick Christmas scarf around her shoulders, shielding her from the biting cold. That warmth, so vivid, came rushing back to her now.
She felt as if a buried memory was stirring awake.
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