I swear, I hate him. I hate his voice—rough and steady, like the sea pounding against the rocks. I hate how I see his damn green eyes even when I close mine. And I hate that his laugh, that smug, arrogant laugh, still manages to sound good.
I clench my fists, forcing myself to keep walking. “Yeah, well, I’m not part of them anymore. So piss off.”
I’m barely keeping myself upright, I walk so fast. But his voice—his words—still catch up to me.
“So quick to run.” He calls out after me, his tone light and teasing, until it turns sharp. “Is that what you do now? Turn your back on everything? Everyone?”
I freeze. His words hit me like a punch, tightening around my chest. I don’t turn around, don’t let him see the way my fists shake. My mouth fills with the taste of blood where I’ve bittenmy cheek. I want to keep walking, but the weight of his words digs into me like a hook I can’t shake.
Without looking back, I spit out, “I didn’t turn my back on anyone. You betrayed me. My father cast me out. The crew agreed.”
I can hear him moving closer, the sound of his boots sinking into the sand makes my skin crawl. I don’t know why I’m still standing here, why I haven’t just walked away.
But I stand still.
“Your father gave you anultimatum,“ he says, his voice suddenly serious. “The crew was terrified of the cursed compass you hold. And as for me...” He pauses, and I can almost feel the weight of his next words before he says them. “You turned your back on me long before I walked into that Serpent tavern. Ain’t that right?”
I spin around. “I didn’t turn my back on you. I left you behind. That’s a fucking difference.”
Before I can blink, he’s right in front of me, close enough that I have to step back to keep from colliding with him. His face is all I see—smooth skin beaded with droplets of seawater at his temples, lips bruised from exhaustion, and those damned eyes, glassy with the reflection of sunlight cutting through the storm. He looks half like a siren’s son, half like a madman who revels in seeing his enemies bleed. Maybe he’s both. Both are deadly.
His jaw tightens, the tension radiating off him like a threat. It grates on my nerves, and suddenly, I’m ready to snap. He’s not the only one on edge, and right now, I already want to kill him. All I need is one small reason, just one, to toss the plan out the window and finish this here and now. And by the look on his face, he’s about to give me one.
“That’s what it was on that beach last night?” His voice drips with challenge. “When you made a face like the cat got your tongue and decided to run?”
He’s towering over me now, his presence overwhelming, pressing in. I can smell the salt on his skin, the musk of him beneath it. My hands curl into fists, nails biting into my palms, and I cling to the anger because it’s easier than anything else. Easier than the heat simmering between us.
“Yes, that’s exactly what it was,” I breathe.
He comes even closer. And I… I don’t move. I wish I could blame it on the exhaustion in my legs. I wish I could say they just don’t move even though I want them to. The truth is, I don’t even try. I stay rooted to the spot, inhaling him in even as pure rage rattles me from the inside.
“Didn’t seem like.” He whispers now. It sounds impossibly soft, airy. Like a temptation of the wind. “Seemed to me like you were scared... running before anything could get real.”
My nails dig deeper into my palms, drawing thin lines of blood. “I wasn’t scared of you, Cagney.” The words come out in a low growl. “You should be scared of me. Because whatever delusions you’re living in, I can end your life faster than you think.”
His lips curl into a dangerous smirk, but there’s no humor behind it. “Oh, I believe you.” He leans down, his lips brushing my wet hair before they slide to my ear. “And yet... you still haven’t.”
That’s it. Something inside me snaps.
I shove him, hard, palms flat against his chest, and he stumbles back into the sand. His grin only widens, like he’s enjoying every second of this, and it makes my blood boil. I’m breathing hard now, rage burning through me, my heart pounding against my ribs.
If my pistol hadn’t been swallowed by the storm, Zayan Cagney would be dead by now. I wouldn’t have hesitated. Just one pull of the trigger, pure impulse, no thought needed. But without a weapon to settle things quick, I know I won’t manage it—no matter how much I want to. Not just because he’s stronger, though that’s part of it, but because I’d have to actually think it through, plan it. And logic? Logic’s a funny thing—it doesn’t always care what you’re feeling.
And right now, logic is telling me I need him.
I’m stranded on some godforsaken island, stuck with a bountiful bard on the deck of a ship barely worth the name. No rations. No coin. No flag to call my own. No allies in sight. Nothing.
Zayan Cagney might be the last person I want to rely on, but that doesn’t change the facts.
He watches me from where he landed in the sand, his grin unfading, as if he knows exactly what’s running through my head. He brushes the sand off his arms, a casual shrug as if being tossed onto his ass doesn’t bother him in the least.
“Feel better?” His voice is dripping with amusement, but there’s a sharp edge beneath it—something darker.
“Hardly.”
“I know something that could help.”
I cross my arms over my chest, trying to keep my breathing steady. He has to be kidding, right?
