For years, I’d dreamed about that boy fighting for his life—wondered if he’d survived, if he’d found freedom. Somehow, I’d always gained strength from him. Now I wondered if fate had actually led him to me, or me to him.
I’d used the memory of that boy during my darkest moments—when I’d been hiding from Uncle Marcus, whenever I’d felt trapped by my father’s expectations, when I’d felt invisible, or inconsequential, or objectified. When I had no voice, no worth.
Even when I started hacking and became Iset, I’d sometimes channeled that boy’s fierce determination, his refusal to break despite his circumstances. He’d been a talisman of sorts, a reminder that survival, that strength was possible even in the most desperate circumstances. Even if the odds were very slim.
I shook my head, trying to clear it. There was no way to be certain apart from asking him. He hadn’t mentioned anything about how he’d been rescued. But even if he’d been there, what difference would it make now?
And yet…something about that connection felt important. As if a story was coming full circle.
Our story.
Maybe we weren’t just meant to meet once—not meant for a fling or a one-night stand. Maybe we’d been destined for more right from the start.
I gave the tip.
The Paraskia Syndicate rescued those kids…but Grey’s file contained operational details…details that weren’t in the original file.
So what if…what if it was one of the operations Grey ran on the side?
Grey and…Uncle Marcus?
Rain began to fall more steadily, warm drops that blended with the salt spray from the increasingly rough sea. I should go back and tell Ivan. I should go back to the others.
I wasn’t sure if I was ready to face them yet—especially Uncle Marcus. But staying out here wouldn’t help either.
I moved back the way I had come from when movement farther down the shoreline caught my eye. A slender figure stood at the edge of the wooden pier, staring out at the boats there.
I couldn’t miss Cara’s distinctive hair, the way she hunched her shoulders slightly as if trying to make herself smaller while staring out there.
What was she doing out here alone with the storm closing in? Was she looking for me?
I closed the distance. “Cara?” I called as I approached, my voice nearly lost in the wind, but I didn’t want to startle her either.
She didn’t respond, seemingly transfixed by the boats rocking violently in the waves.
“Cara?” I tried again when I stood right next to her. “What are you doing out here? The storm’s getting worse.”
She startled and turned to me with haunted eyes. Her hair was already plastered to her head from the rain, making her look younger and more vulnerable than usual. “I can’t look away from the water.”
I followed her gaze to Grey and Marcus’s speedboats, their hulls slapping against the pier. “Why? It’s getting rough out here.”
She took a deep breath, and I almost didn’t expect her to answer. “I almost drowned when I was twelve,” she confessed softly, her voice barely audible above the wind. “I’ve been terrified of water ever since. It’s just the raw power, the way it doesn’t care who or what’s in the way or trapped in it.”
I noticed her trembling hands despite the warm air.
I didn’t really know her, apart from knowing she was Jemma’s sister, and Cristo was obviously smitten with her. But I could empathize. Everybody’s experience, everybody’s fear was different, uniquely their own but equally real.
I never would’ve thought Cara had a fear of water.
But nobody who just knew me casually would know I usually couldn’t stand being too close to people for too long—would know the panic I was feeling internally. With everyone but Ivan.
Trauma wasn’t what happened to you; it was what it did with you, what changed within you, what broke or splintered.
And no matter what it was, it became a part of you.
“How did it happen?” I asked gently, moving to stand beside her on the pier. The wood was slick beneath my bare feet, but I made sure my shoulder touched Cara’s so she could feel my presence.
Cara’s gaze remained fixed on the churning sea. She shrugged. “I can’t really remember all the details. But we were on a school trip at the beach, and someone shoved me off the dock while the teachers weren’t looking.” She swallowed hard. “I don’t remember how it happened, why I sank, or how I got out, but I remember how I couldn’t fight, the burning in my lungs…”
