Chapter Seven
The Hawaiian sun burnedbright over the ridge, catching on the metal and glass of the Black Tide compound.Drew sat in one of the wide wicker chairs on thelanai, his bare feet propped on the railing, a mug of cooling coffee in his hand.The air smelled of sea and heat, salt and life.He still wasn’t used to it—the peace, the quiet—but he was learning to stop waiting for the next explosion.
Five weeks.
That’s how long it had been since Kael had pulled him from the edge.He could remember the flight here in fragments—the hum of the jet that brought him and the team back to the island, Kael’s voice giving orders, the world fading in and out of focus.When he’d woken, it was to the clean lines of a new infirmary that still smelled of paint and disinfectant.
Kael had been there, standing at the end of the bed like a storm waiting for direction.“We started building this a while back.Modeled it on what they have at the Ridge,” he’d said.“We rushed to finish it for you.If we’re keeping you alive, we’re doing it right.”
Drew hadn’t known what to say to that.He’d been patched up, his thumb reset, ribs taped, his head pounding with pain and old ghosts.Hospitals never felt safe, but Kael’s place did.The team wanted him here, under their protection.
Under Kael’s.
Aunty Leilani had been waiting for him when they landed—a woman of weathered grace and fierce eyes.She wasn’t of Kael’s blood, but that didn’t matter.On this island, family wasn’t about bloodlines.“You rest, boy,” she’d ordered, pressing her hands to his cheeks.“You let us take care of you.You fight when you’re ready.For now, heal.”
And he had.Slowly.Under her care, under Kael’s relentless attention.The first week was sleep and painkillers.The second was walking.The third was laughter and long slow walks on the beach.By the fourth, he’d started to remember what living felt like.
He smiled now, thinking about it.The past weeks had been...good.Quiet.Surreal.There had been moments with Kael—soft touches, quiet laughter, stolen kisses in the dark of Kael’s camper.They hadn’t crossed that final line.Kael wanted him healed before they did, and for once, Drew didn’t argue.He liked the stillness.He liked being cared for.
The creak of footsteps behind him broke through his thoughts.Kael’s hand brushed his shoulder, warm and steady.“You look better,” he said.
“Still not pretty,” Drew replied.
Kael’s mouth twitched.“Good thing I like trouble more than pretty.”
They stood like that for a beat, the air between them charged and easy all at once.Then Kael said, “Maybe it’s time for us to talk.”
Drew tilted his head, eyes narrowing.“Talk about what?”
“The people you’ve been chasing.”
The easy calm evaporated.He set his mug down and pushed to his feet.“You sure?”
Kael nodded.“It’s time.”
Up in the command center, the rest of the team was waiting.Reef leaned against the wall, arms crossed.Breaker stood by the holo-display, expression unreadable.Luca hovered near the console, fingers twitching for work.Tane stood just inside the entrance, as if guarding them all.Kael moved to the central controls and activated the secure connection.
Two familiar faces appeared—Dev Roberts and Anton Bateman.Legends in their world.Kael took care of the introductions.“This is Wraith.Real name’s Drew Hawkins.He’s been tracking the Directorate for years.”
