A D R I A N

The footstep is soft, but it cuts through the wind like a blade. Elara flinches, and I don’t even think, I pull her behind me, blocking her body with mine, my pulse still hammering from the way she came apart on my tongue. Her breath is hot against my neck; her hands clutch the back of my shirt like she doesn’t know whether to hide or hold on.

Ethan stops three paces away, eyes pinned to the floorboards of the Skybridge.
Smart. He saw enough to know to look at nothing.

“Sir,” he says quietly. “We have a problem.” Elara’s pulse jumps under my hand. I want to throw Ethan into the ocean for existing. For interrupting. For dragging us back to reality when she was still trembling around my mouth a minute ago.

“What kind of problem?” I snap.

“Aurelius Maritime. They’re demanding contact tonight.”

Of course they are.  Of course the gods couldn’t give me five more minutes with her. Ethan keeps his gaze down. “I’ll brief you when you’re ready.”

He backs up, giving us space. Privacy. Dignity. When he’s gone, I turn to her. She’s a wreck in the most beautiful, heartbreaking way, hair in the wind, lips swollen, thighs still shaking.

“Elara,” I breathe. She won’t look at me. She’s staring at her hands like they betrayed her.

“Hey.” I lift her chin with my fingers. “Eyes on me.”

Slowly, she looks. Fear flashes there, fear of judgment, cameras, rumors, being pulled into the spotlight. It twists something in me into a snarl.

“No one saw,” I promise. “Ethan didn’t look. And even if he had, he answers to me.”

Her breath shakes. “But what if..”

“No.” My thumb strokes the back of her neck. “You’re safe. With me, you’re safe.” She leans into me, hesitant but needing the contact. I pull her close, feeling her tremble.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I whisper. “Not for a second.” Her fingers tighten in my shirt. I rest my forehead against hers, grounding both of us.

“Come on. Let’s get off the bridge.” We walk slowly, her hand slipping into the crook of my elbow, small but deliberate. Bluefire Lagoon glows brighter as we approach, deep neon blues flickering like underwater lightning beneath the glass docks. Lanterns drift overhead, soft gold against violet dusk.

A firework test shoots up, exploding into gold fire. The light splashes across her face and something breaks open in me. I see it. A future. Her at my family table. Her in my suite, barefoot in one of my shirts. Her signature beside mine on clinic documents. Her in my arms every night. Her name spoken with mine without fear, without hiding. It hits me hard enough that I stop walking. She turns, brows pinched.

“Adrian? What’s wrong?” Everything. Nothing. I’m falling for you so fast the ground can’t keep up.

“Just thinking,” I manage. She studies me with those soft, sharp eyes, and I know she feels something too, even if she’s terrified of it. We stopped near the viewing deck. Lantern light flickers over her cheeks. I touch her jaw with my thumb, slow, reverent.

“I want something with you,” I say. “Not for PR. Not for optics. Something real.” Her breath catches. I feel the tremor run through her.

“What happened on the bridge… it wasn’t nothing,” I add, voice low. “Not to me.” She opens her mouth, but fear and wanting war in her eyes. I lower my forehead to hers.

“You don’t have to say anything,” I whisper. “I just needed you to know.” Her hands slid into my shirt, holding tight.
“Adrian… I heard you. I just don’t want to lose myself again.”

“You won’t,” I promise softly. “Not with me.” She exhales, trembling, lips parting and then:

“Adrian.”

Ethan again.  Of course. I step back, slow and reluctant, keeping a hand on her waist. He approaches like he’s carrying bad news in both hands.
“Aurelius Maritime is escalating,” he says quietly. “They want a call. Tonight.”

My jaw locks. “What else?” He hesitates. That’s what makes my stomach drop.

“There was a leak,” he says. “A photo.” Elara freezes.
“What kind of photo?” I ask, already knowing the answer in my bones.

“Skybridge,” Ethan murmurs. “Blurry. But… recognizable enough.” Elara’s breath cracks. She steps back, hand covering her mouth.

“No. No, no. Adrian..” I grab her before she spirals away, my hands firm on her arms.

“Elara, look at me.” But her eyes are glued to the tablet Ethan holds like it’s a weapon.

“Show me,” I tell him. He turns the screen. My blood goes cold. It’s grainy. Out of focus.
Blown out by wind and low light. But the shapes. Her thighs. My shoulders. My head between her legs. No faces. No identifying marks. But anyone with eyes could guess the story. Elara makes a small, broken sound that guts me.

“They’ll know,” she whispers. “They’ll know it’s me, people don’t need proof to destroy a woman.” Her voice breaks on the last word and something in me snaps clean in half. I cup her face, forcing her to meet my eyes.

“No one is destroying you,” I say, voice low and lethal. “I don’t care what they think they saw. I don’t care what they post or whisper. You’re mine to protect. And I will burn this entire island to the sand before I let them touch you.”

Her lips tremble. “Adrian…” I pull her against my chest, one arm locked around her waist. She collapses into me, shaking.

Ethan clears his throat, quiet.
“There’s more.”

“Of course there is,” I mutter. “Tell me.”

“Aurelius Maritime got the photo too.”  He swallows.
“They’re demanding a response by midnight. Or they pull sponsorship.”

Elara jolts against me.
“What happens if they walk?” she whispers.

The truth tastes metallic.
“Lantern Tide collapses. The whole season. The year’s revenue. All of it.” Ethan hands me the tablet with the message.

Aurelius Maritime:
We require immediate confirmation of control of the situation.
Midnight deadline.
Failure to respond triggers full withdrawal and public statements.

A countdown ticks beneath it.

00:58:12
00:58:11
00:58:10

Elara whispers, “They’re timing you.”

“No,” I say. “They’re threatening you.”

She looks up at me, eyes shining with panic. “Adrian… what are you going to do?” I look at her face, the woman who trembled for me, who trusted me, who’s in danger because of me and something inside me goes deadly calm.

“Exactly what I have to do,” I say. I hit the call button. It rings once. Twice. Then a smug, too-smooth voice answers.

“Valcrosse. You know why we’re calling.” My jaw tightens.

“You either fall back in line,” he says, “or Lantern Tide burns. Your move.” My voice is a blade.

“Over my dead body.”