“Such a crude word from such an elegant mouth,” I chided, my tone mild. I stepped in until my chest was almost brushing against her. I could feel the heat radiating from her skin, a fine, tremulous vibration that was more potent than any spoken plea. “We’re offering you a place in the most secure fortress in the world: our family. All you have to do is surrender the key.”
“Which is what? My soul?” she shot back, a flash of her signature fire in her eyes.
“I have no use for souls,” I said, my voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Surrender your body. And your mind. And give us your complete, unwavering loyalty.”
I leaned in, my lips brushing her ear. The scent of her—jasmine, salt, and the lingering musk of our recent encounter—was an intoxicating perfume. “You will belong to us. Not as a possession, but as an essential part of the whole. Roman will give you pleasure you’ve never imagined. Lev will test you, push you, break you in ways that will make you stronger than you’ve ever been. And I…” I paused, letting the weight of the silence settle. “I will give you purpose. A reason for all of it.”
I pulled back, my gaze searching hers. She was trembling, a fine, almost imperceptible tremor that ran through her entire body.Her defiance was crumbling, replaced by a dawning, horrified awe. She was seeing the offer for what it was: not a cage, but a crucible. A chance to be reforged in the fire of our combined will.
“Think about it, Kara,” I said, making my voice a compelling command. “You can run. You can hide. You can spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder, waiting for ARCHEON to decide you’re more trouble than you’re worth. Or…” I reached out, my finger tracing the delicate line of her jaw, a tender, but utterly possessive caress. “You can be ours. And in doing so, become more powerful than you have ever been.”
She didn’t answer. She just stood there, her lips parted, her eyes wide, a silent, screaming battle raging within her.
I didn’t need her to say yes. Her body had already given me the answer.
I took a step back, giving her space, but the air between us was still thick, charged with the unspoken. I turned and walked to the railing, looking out at the sea, now deep violet in the fading light. The sun had set, leaving a smear of brilliant orange and red on the horizon. It was beautiful. Violent.
And temporary.
Just like her resistance.
“What if I say no?” she asked in a hoarse, aroused whisper.
I smiled, a slow, cold curve of my lips. “You won’t.”
And I was right.
I left her standing there, a silent, shaken statue on the deck, and walked away. I didn’t look back. I didn’t need to. The die was cast. The game was afoot.
All I had to do now was wait.
Taking something is always simpler than asking for it. You remove the doubt. You remove the bargaining. You make the world obey.
I found Captain Mikkelsen in his tiny cabin, leaning over a set of paper charts. He had the tired face of a man who’d spent his life trusting the sea. His hands trembled a bit as he plotted a course with a pencil.
“Captain,” I spoke with that quiet, compelling quality I used when a decision needed no debate.
He snapped upright. “Mr. Markov. I—” He started, flustered, eyes darting to the door like it might offer an escape if I hadn’t already cut it off.
I placed the USB drive I’d kept in my pocket on the chart table like a punctuation mark. Small. Sleek. Unremarkable until you learned what it could do.
“You’re going to take theErebusto new coordinates,” I said. “I’m going to upload them. You will maintain radio silence. Understood?”
He stared at the device, at me, then at the ghost of the owners’ logo on his chart. “Sir, my clients, their contract?—”
“Are not relevant,” I finished for him. “Your only concern is me. And the considerable sum that is now in your personal account, of course.” I let that sit. Money was a language everyone spoke. Then I added the second half of the sentence, the one thateveryone heard but few wanted translated: “If you deviate, that account will evaporate. Permanently.”
He swallowed audibly. “How—how did you?—?”
“I have my ways,” I smiled. “You’ll follow the route I gave you. You’ll keep your AIS on but reroute any inbound calls to my secure line. You will not make distress calls. You will not alert port authorities. You will not tamper with the crew manifests.” I watched his face line by line to see what he chose to worry about. “Do that and your career remains intact along with a healthier bank account. Do not, and the bank that holds your mortgage will find very creative reasons to foreclose and the rest of your accounts will be drained to zero.”
He looked at me like a man calculating his odds. In his mind he balanced professional oath against immediate survival. It didn’t take long.
“All right,” he said finally, voice small. “All right, Mr. Markov. I’ll comply.”
I inserted the drive into the navy-blue console at his elbow. The screen blinked then accepted the upload: a short string of waypoints, a quiet instruction set that would take theErebusout of public lanes and into a grid we controlled. Within seconds, the autopilot queued.
The captain’s hands hovered over the keyboard, hesitating on habit. I put my palm on his shoulder, brief and cold. “Do it,” I ordered.
