One loop gave. Then another.
He forced himself to breathe through the pain. Inhale. Twist. Exhale. Grind.
The fibers snapped with a soft, wet sound.
He pulled his hands free and went perfectly still, listening.
The door to the corridor outside hissed open. A single beam of light cut into the hold, sweeping the space like a searcher’s eye. Blake held still against the pipe, waiting for the light to pass, but it didn’t—it paused, hovering near him.
“Blake,” a voice whispered.
The sound hit him harder than the pain ever could.
Itwasher.
She was here.
“Vivian.”
The flashlight’s beam jerked once, then steadied. She slipped inside, moving fast and quiet. The door closed behind her, cutting the storm’s roar to a muffled heartbeat.
He could see her now—hair damp, jacket torn, eyes sharp and alive in the flickering red light. She looked like she’d walked straight out of a fire and didn’t have time to notice the burn marks.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he rasped, voice rough with pain and disbelief.
Vivian didn’t answer. For half a breath, she just stood there—rain streaming off her lashes, chest heaving, her silhouette framed by the flashing emergency light that painted her in alternating crimson and shadow. Then she crossed the space between them in two fierce steps, caught his face in both hands, and kissed him.
It wasn’t soft. It was the kind of kiss that cut straight through the noise—the kind that made a man forget the pain, the storm, and every reason he’d ever had to hold back. Her mouth trembled against his, tasting of salt and adrenaline, of everything they’d lost and hadn’t yet given up on.
For an instant, the ship could’ve been burning, sinking, vanishing beneath them, and it wouldn’t have mattered.
Then she pulled back just far enough for him to see the truth in her eyes—raw, defiant, heartbreakingly clear.
“That’s why I’m here,” she said, voice barely more than a whisper. “Because you matter. Because I’m not losing you.”
He stared at her, chest tight, throat working around the thousand things he couldn’t say. Her hand lingered against his cheek for one more heartbeat before she tore it away, scanning the shadows for movement, her attention already back in fight mode.
“Can you stand?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said, though they both knew it was a lie.
She gave him the faintest smile and reached for his arm. “Then let’s move before the next wave hits.”
Blake huffed a laugh, low and rough. “You crash through a storm, break into a cargo hold, kiss me like that, and now you’re giving orders?”
Her eyes flicked to his, sharp and amused despite the chaos. “Would you rather I carried you?”
He smirked, wincing as he shifted his weight. “Don’t tempt me.”
She cut the rope from his waist, the knife gleaming once in the low light. “Lucky for you, I have bad instincts.”
He huffed something that might’ve been a laugh. “Where’s Mara?”
“Safe. Locked her in a supply hut onshore.” Her tone softened for half a second. “She’s safe for now.”
He nodded, wincing as circulation came rushing back to his hands. “Good.”
“We don’t have long.”
