A D R I A N

I don’t remember much after Ethan says “Mistral.” just the way my stomach drops and the way Elara’s face slams into my chest like I ran straight into it. She looked at me like she felt the island shifting under her feet. Like she knew I was about to leave, like she almost asked me not to. I should’ve said something back but I didn’t.  Now I’m walking down the dock like a man sprinting into something he deserves.

Kai’s already in the RIB, barefoot, sunburned, impatient. “Get in.”

“I’m not leaving Seraphine.”
“Yeah, you are,” he fires back instantly. “Unless you want whatever’s out there hitting her island before we can stop it.”

That lands right in the place where I don’t have any defenses, I climb into the boat.  Mostly because I can’t get Elara out of my head, how she was shaking, trying to pretend she wasn’t,  and I still walked away.

Ethan jogs up with the comms kit. “Check in every ten minutes. Stay online.” I nod, even though my hands feel wrong, too cold, too warm, like they don’t belong to me. Ethan gives me a look that says he understands more than he should, but he keeps it to himself. Kai hits the throttle hard and the boat leaps forward, spray slapping across my face. Kai cuts across the water like he’s racing a clock no one else can hear, wind whips his hair into his eyes and he doesn’t bother fixing it.

“You look like hell,” he says.

“Thanks.”

“You only look like that when you’re pretending you’re okay.”

I grit my teeth. “Kai..”

“Don’t.” His jaw ticks. “Just say it, something’s wrong with you.”

I stare straight ahead, refusing to rise to the bait. The horizon over Mistral looks…off. Too bright, too flat, the kind of bright that means the ocean’s planning something.

“It’s Elara.”  I don’t mean to say it, it just punches out of me.

Kai lets out this short, humorless laugh. “Yeah. No shit.” That stings more than I want to admit.

“She looked like she was about to break,” he says quietly. “You should’ve stayed with her.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” Because if I stayed, I’d never have left her side again, because I don’t know how to look at her without wanting things I shouldn’t.

“It doesn’t matter,” I mutter. Kai shakes his head like I’m the stupidest man alive. “It matters more than anything.” He turns slightly, scanning the water, his tone changes.
“Hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Nothing.”  He frowns. “The ocean’s too quiet. Wrong quiet.” My pulse jumps.

“What does that mean?”

“It means hold on,” he mutters, already shifting the throttle. “Because this water’s about to go sideways.”

Kai suddenly wrenches the wheel, and I slam a hand against the rail to keep upright.

“There!” he yells. “Someone’s caught in the rip!” I track where he’s pointing and a head dips under, my body reacts before my brain does. Kai grabs me. “Adrian.. hold on—” But I’m already stripping off my shirt and throwing myself over the side.

The water hits like ice, the current clamps around me, dragging hard. I cut sideways through it, the way Kai hammered into us when we were kids. The kid, a teenager, thrashes wildly, choking on seawater, his eyes are huge, terrified, white all around.

“Hey!” I call over the roar of the surf. “Stop kicking! I’ve got you!” He slips under again, I lunge, catch him under the arms, haul him back up. Kai circles from the safer angle, bringing the bow around fast.

“Left! Adrian, angle left!” For once, I don’t argue, I shift exactly where he tells me.
The current changes its hold on us, diagonal pull instead of straight out. Kai flings the rescue float, and I loop it around the kid, he’s trembling so violently it rattles through my arms.

“You’re alright,” I gasp, lungs burning. “I’ve got you. Don’t fight.” Kai reaches down, clamps a hand around the kid’s arm, and drags him aboard with raw strength, then he snags my wrist and hauls me over the side like I weigh nothing. I drop to the deck, coughing seawater, chest on fire. Kai looks down at me like he can’t decide if he wants to deck me or pull me into a hug.

“Jesus, Adrian,” he mutters, shoving his soaked hair back. “You don’t even know what ‘fine’ means anymore.” The kid curls near the console under a towel, shaking but breathing. Kai checks him twice, quick, competent, gentle in a way he rarely allows himself. Once he’s satisfied the kid isn’t going to topple over, he tosses me a bottle.

“Drink.” I try twisting the cap, but my hands are trembling too hard, it pisses me off more than I want to admit and Kai notices, of course he does.

“You pull something like that again,” Kai mutters, “and I swear I’m strapping you to the damn rail.”

“He was going under,” I say.

“We could’ve brought the boat closer,” he fires back. “You didn’t have to be a full martyr.” I keep my eyes on the water because looking at him would mean admitting too much. “I wasn’t trying to be anything, I just moved.”

Kai gives a short, bitter laugh. “No. You snapped. That’s different.” I want to argue, but nothing comes out, because he’s right, because I’m wound so tight these days that the smallest thing sends me straight into the fire.

“You’ve got too much sitting on your shoulders,” he says, quieter now. “The island, the board and all the crap happening behind the scenes, and then Elara…” Her name hits like a punch to the ribs.

“I’m fine,” I manage.

“Bullshit.” He leans back against the console, arms folded. “You look like someone ripped out your engines mid-air.” I shut my eyes, salt stings, wind burns and something inside me loosens, just a crack, but enough to ache.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I admit, the words rough, almost hoarse. He hears every piece of it, then he bumps my shoulder, surprisingly gentle. “Then let me show you.” The water settles as we get closer to Mistral, tall, jagged cliffs rising like old bones, spray hitting them in sharp bursts. The air tastes colder,sharper like the island’s already bracing for something.

Kai kills the engine, we drift, the rescued kid breathes quietly beside the console, head down, finally steady. But my chest still feels tight, like a hand is wrapped around my lungs. Kai drops onto the bench next to me, not invading, just present.

“You left her rattled,” he says, low.

My jaw locks. “I didn’t want to.”

“I know.” He pulls his knees up, arms resting on them. “But you don’t trust yourself with her.”

I stare at the cliffs. “That’s not it.”

“It’s exactly it.” I drag both hands over my face, breath shaking loose. “She looks at me like I’m someone I’m not sure I can be.”

Kai’s voice softens. “That’s the point.”  He nudges my arm. “But running from her to protect her? All you’re doing is hurting both of you.” I don’t answer, mostly because he’s right and it stings.

The boat rocks slowly, wind whistles through the cliff cracks. For a moment, all I hear is the steady slap of water against the hull. Then Kai says, still looking outward, “You don’t have to stand on your own all the time, Adrian, even the strongest pillars collapse if they don’t lean somewhere.” And dammit, those words get past my walls, for the first time in longer than I want to admit.

Kai’s head snaps up suddenly, he leans forward, listening hard. “Wait.”

My spine goes rigid. “What?”

He stands, shading his eyes with one hand. “There, between those cliffs. Look at that channel.” I follow where he’s looking and my stomach just caves in. There’s a boat out there, sleek, dark and wrong in every possible way. It’s drifting with the engine cut, letting the swell carry it like it’s hunting along the rocks. Not a tour boat, it’s something quieter and sharper, built for slipping in and out without being noticed.

Kai snatches the binoculars and shoves them into my hands. “Please tell me I’m seeing things.” I lift them and the air punches right out of my lungs. I recognize that outline, that color, the stupid custom trim Rafael always pretended didn’t mean anything. And the man on the deck, pretending to fuss with gear, pretending he’s not glancing straight at us, yeah. I know him too.

He doesn’t belong to Mistral or Seraphine or anywhere that isn’t drenched in suspicion. He’s Rafael’s aide, the guy who handles every job Rafael doesn’t want dirt on his hands for, the one who always shows up right before things go sideways. I lower the binoculars slowly, every muscle in my body pulling tight.

Kai sees my face and curses. “No. No way. That’s not..”

“It is.” The boat leans with the swell, drifting in closer to the cliff line, still silent, watching, pretending it’s just out for a casual drift.

Kai’s knuckles go white around the wheel. “Why the hell would he be here?” I don’t answer at first, because the truth slams into me fast and clean.

“He’s not here for Mistral,” I say, voice low.

Kai turns to me. “Then who?” My heartbeat kicks hard against my ribs. “Us.” The water under our hull shifts, like the sea itself is bracing for impact,  like it knows the next storm isn’t coming from the sky. It’s already on the waves, and it’s heading straight for us.