E L A R A

He thinks I’ll stay but he doesn’t know me at all. The storm chews the marina, spray hitting like shattered glass. Lanterns shudder over black water, and somewhere down the pier the RIB’s engines already thrum, hungry and reckless. Adrian’s silhouette is cut sharp against the night, leaving me behind and useless.

“Doctor.” Ethan steps in front of me, blocking the boarding ramp. His headlamp carves sharp beams through the rain, lighting up my drenched ponytail and the med kit pressed to my ribs. His stance is solid granite. His eyes, though, already know this fight is lost.  “If you go aboard, he’ll kill me.”

“If someone’s still in that water, I’m not staying ashore.” My voice is steady, resolute. “Saboteur or not, if there’s a breathing body out there and Adrian brings them in without medical support, they won’t make it.”

Ethan’s jaw ticks, rain slicks down his throat. “Or maybe that skiff’s empty, maybe it’s bait. You thought about the trap?”

“Yes.” I step closer. “And I remember the code blue where no one listened. I’m not losing a life because someone wants me onshore.” The moment hangs, tight as wire, Ethan blows out a breath, pops a locker, and throws a bright vest at me.  “Fine. Two vests. You’re small, you’ll stay on the surface.”

I strap in and He hands me a pouch. “No phone. Just radio.”

“Fine.” He tightens everything with rough efficiency. “Stubborn,” he mutters, less anger but more surrender. I sling the med kit. “You’re helping me.”

“I’m helping the damn island.” He nods. “Berth sixty. Move.” We run. The RIB bucks as I leap aboard. I crouch, bracing and Ethan lands behind me.

Adrian turns and even through the rain, rage is carved into every part of him.
“Elara.” My name hits the headset like a warning shot. “Off this boat. Now.”

“No. If someone’s alive out there, they need me.” His glare drops to the med kit, then spears me. “This isn’t a clinic. You’ll freeze. You don’t dive.”

“And you don’t treat near-drowned patients without a doctor.” I lean in. “You bring someone back without me, they’ll die before you tie off.” His jaw grinds. “You were told to stay.”

“And I told you I don’t take orders that bury people.” My throat burns, memory flaring hot, the code blue, Nathan’s voice calling death inevitable. I force the ghost down. “Maybe it’s empty, maybe it’s a trap, maybe it’s the saboteur himself. But if it’s not? If there’s a pulse? I will not watch another life bleed out because some arrogant man decided control mattered more than care.”

His breath hisses across the comm, close and intimate, like he’s right inside my ear. He grips the rail so hard his knuckles pale, rain beading on the back of his hand. “You don’t get it, Quinn. You out here make you my liability. My risk.”

“Then treat me like any other hazard,” I fire. “Mitigate. Don’t erase.” The space between us is a wire pulled tight, waves slam the RIB sideways and his eyes… fire and fury, pressed together. The boat lurches spray hits like needles but Adrian doesn’t blink and his stare pins me in place.

“You’re a nightmare,” he spits. “A reckless one.” His grip on the throttle is murderous.

“And you’re wasting time,” I shoot back.

A guttural sound breaks from him. He steps in, arm braced beside my head, body caging mine. Rain slicks down his jaw, he’s close enough that the storm can’t get between us. “You don’t leave my sight,” he says, voice low and brutal. “You move on my command. You obey. Drop means drop. Back means back. Step out of line, and I’ll restrain you myself.” Heat twists under my ribs, fierce and unwanted. “I can obey.”

He leans closer, so close his breath ghosts over my lips, so close the storm disappears behind the headset static. “Prove it.” Lightning flickers across his face, carving him into something mythic, dangerous, and achingly alive.

Ethan slams a locker shut, the clang slicing the moment clean. “We’re out of time,” he mutters, pressing a headset at me. “Clip in. Both of you. Act like a team or it’s not just the skiff that sinks tonight.” Adrian drags his stare from mine like it costs him. Then he hits the throttle, and the RIB leaps into open water.

But his command still echoes through me, You don’t leave my sight The bow slams up the first swell. Spray stings my cheeks, the storm screams and the engine answers. Adrian stands so close the heat of him cuts through the cold, his shoulder brushing mine with every violent jolt. The headset dulls the world until it’s just his voice, his breath, the space between us shrinking with every second.

“Straps,” Ethan calls. I tighten mine until they dig deep. “Check.” Adrian echoes it, his voice a dark whisper through static.  A wave smashes us sideways and my knee collides with his. He shifts instantly, steadying, sure, instinctive and my breath falters.

“Buoy to starboard,” Ethan says. “I see it,” Adrian replies. Then softer, barely audible
“Stay with me.” I don’t know whether it’s meant for me or the RIB, but it hits the same place either way.

We drop into another trough, spray hitting like shrapnel. I blink hard, water running into my eyes, staring at the horizon swallowed in black. Out there is a skiff, adrift, dying, maybe carrying someone still fighting to live. My hand presses to the med kit. Whoever I reach becomes a patient first and everything else comes second.

Then the world rips open, lightning spears the water so close the ocean turns white-hot. Thunder slams into us immediately, shaking the RIB like a creature trying to throw us off. Jagged rock flashes into view, too close, too sharp.

The headset erupts:  “Mayda.. Skiff.. taking water..”  A voice cracking, drowning, begging. “Please.. Please..” Adrian jerks the wheel hard, the RIB lurches and I stumble straight into his chest.  His arm cages me in an instant, unyielding, hauling me against him as we skim past the rocks by a hair. Lightning flashes again, the mayday voice fractures into a scream, choked by water, and I feel it in my bones, this night is going to break something.