Instead, I let him lead me to his bed.
We settle into bed—him on his back, me curled against his side with my head on his shoulder. His arm wraps around me, holding me close without holding me down. My hand rests on his chest, feeling the rhythm of his breathing slow as the tension drains from his muscles.
It’s the most intimate thing I’ve done in years. More intimate than sex, in some ways. More vulnerable. I’m trusting him not just with my body but with my sleep, my unconscious hours, the parts of me that can’t guard themselves.
I should be terrified.
I’m not.
“We’ll find a way.” His voice is a rumble in the darkness. “The Wrecktide is full of salvage. Ships that went down carrying treasure. If we can dive enough wrecks in a few days?—”
“We’d need to find fifty-five thousand gold in waters you’ve spent years avoiding.” But something stirs in my chest. Hope,maybe. Or just the refusal to give up that’s kept me alive this long.
“The curse is gone. The drowned are quiet. For the first time in years, the Wrecktide is just water and reef and lost treasure.” His hand strokes through my hair. “I know those wrecks, Aviora. Know where the richest ships went down. If anyone can find that much gold in a few days, it’s us.”
I think about it. Finn taught me salvage—taught me to read currents, to identify promising debris fields, to know the difference between a wreck worth diving and one that’s already been picked clean.
It’s insane. Even with the curse gone, the Wrecktide is dangerous. Currents that can trap you against hull fragments. Debris that shifts without warning. Depths that require more breath than human lungs can hold.
But it’s a chance. The only one we have.
“Show me the charts in the morning.” I press closer against his side. “Show me where the best wrecks are. We’ll make a plan.”
“We will.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Now sleep. We’ll need every hour of rest we can get.”
Sleep comes easier than it should. Maybe it’s exhaustion. Maybe it’s the warmth of his body beside mine, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath my palm. Maybe it’s the knowledge that, for the first time in years, I’m not facing my problems alone.
I drift off with his arms around me, his heartbeat in my ears, and the faint warmth of hope kindling somewhere deep.
A few days. Fifty-five thousand gold. An impossible task.
But I’ve survived impossible before.
NINETEEN
ZORIC
She’s still here when I wake.
Not the hollow-eyed woman who came to my door last night. This Aviora is softer in sleep—her breathing slow and even, her body curved against mine with an ease that shouldn’t feel so natural after a few days. Her fingers rest against my chest, curled loosely over the spot where my heart beats too fast for a man who’s supposed to be past wanting things.
I don’t move. Don’t want to disturb whatever peace she’s found in these few hours of darkness. The gray light filtering through my window says dawn is close, and dawn means facing what’s waiting for us—Gyla’s ships anchored in my harbor, the impossible debt hanging over everything, the salvage operation that’s our only hope.
But for now, there’s this. Her warmth against my side. The quiet miracle of someone choosing to stay.
Getting soft, Druger.
Maybe. Probably. Years of keeping everyone at a distance, and it took a few days for her to crack every wall I built.
She stirs. A small sound, her fingers tightening against my chest before relaxing again. Her lashes flutter but don’t open. Still dreaming.
I let myself look. Really look, in a way I couldn’t when she was awake and watching me back. The sharp angles of her face are gentler in this light—the jaw that sets with such stubborn determination, the mouth that curves into sardonic smiles meant to keep people at a distance. A bruise yellowing on her cheekbone from the siege. A scrape along her hairline I hadn’t noticed before.
A few days. That’s all we have before Gyla carries out her threat. A few days to pull fifty-five thousand gold from waters that have been trying to kill people for centuries.
Aviora wakes, blinking up at me in the thin light.
“You’re staring again.” Her voice carries the rasp of sleep, but warmth runs underneath it. A warmth that wasn’t there a few days ago. She stretches against me, her body arching in ways that make my blood heat despite the circumstances.
