We've just arrived on Narephis Isle. The rotor blades hadn't even stopped spinning when I stepped out, needing air and craving a signal bar.
A scorching gust immediately tangled through my hair, whipping it into chaos. I turned instinctively toward the breeze—there it was: the endless cerulean horizon. Past the sky's reach shimmered waves of crystalline teal.
My phone vibrated. I picked up.
"I swear, Zaryn—where did you run off to?" Syrelunea's voice was sharp, edged with suspicion.
"I'm scoping out my escape plan," I said, feigning boredom. "That party dragged on like a dying star. Nothing even started yet."
I motioned silently to Calystron. "Put him inside." I mouthed.
Last year, my father and I acquired this entire isle—undiscovered, neglected, perfect. He crafted a haven atop the hill: a glass-walled retreat overseeing the world from its green crown.
It once hosted wandering tourists. The neighboring isles were owned by some old-world tycoon who eventually let go of this one. Dad sealed the deal. I saw it once—and refused to forget it. Now, it's sealed off. Sacred. Mine.
Six hectares of untouched white crescent—fine sands like sifted moonlight. Clear shores lap gently at its edges. There's a sloped rise where the hill-house stands, a moored yacht glinting below, twin jetskis floating nearby, and a second structure—meant for guests, if I ever decide anyone's worthy of being invited.
Something crashed behind me—a sharp thud. I didn't turn around. Probably that idiot slipped exiting the heli. Clumsy as a wind-wrapped leaf. Figures.
"You sure about this?" Syrelunea's voice cracked through my earpiece like static on water. "Kaelvynox Dravenquell vanished. His fiancée's family is frantic, and it's headline chaos."
I crossed my arms, a faint smirk on my lips. Ahead of me, Caeloura stood with an unspoken question in her eyes. Mid-forties, wisps of gold tangled with shadows in her thinning hair, arms full of my luggage. I gave her a silent nod—yes, set them wherever feels right.
"Maybe he just... didn't want the bride?" I muttered with a chuckle. Naturally, Syrelunea didn't find the comment funny.
I could practically see her face through the call—tight, doubting, unsmiling.
The whirring blades above slowed to a heavy churn. In the distance, I caught Calystron grumbling orders—getting the "guest" into the study. Once my father's. Temporarily, mine. I turned away from the shouting guards, the buzzing chaos. The sea beyond was far better company.
"He was at the hotel, Zaryn," Syrelunea pressed. "Every source swore he'd be at the engagement."
Hands now on my hips. She knew me too well—every evasion, every lie. I couldn't bluff my way past her anymore.
"So what's your angle here, Syrelunea? I haven't seen him. I couldn't care less if he vanished into fog—"
"You couldn't care," she cut in, voice sharpened, "when you just told me you needed him two nights ago?"
"He turned his back on me, so why should I give even a flicker of concern after that?"
"Because, Zaryn, you said—you said—he's your last viable route! Please, just promise me you didn't pull another one of your beautifully reckless disasters. You can tell me anything. You know that."
Of course she suspects me. Why wouldn't she? I've earned her doubt in spades. But this? This one's heavier. A mistake with teeth. One that could gnaw through the law and leave bones behind.
My thoughts began to spin out. What now? Can I sway him? Threaten him? Bribe, charm, break him? Would it actually come to pointing steel just to get a yes?
But he will. He will help me. He just doesn't know it yet.
I inhaled, long and slow, like dragging courage from the air itself.
"Syrelunea, not now. I'm drowning in things I can't say out loud. Let's not talk about your worries, okay?"
"Alright, alright. But call me back, please? Are you at the condo? I could drop by."
"No, I'm at the old house. The one that still creaks with secrets. I'll call. Soon. Love you."
She's definitely imagining wild theories now. And while I trust her more than I trust my own reflection, I can't let guilt have a seat at the table just yet. Syrelunea's the kind who spills hard truths like ice water—and I can't afford that kind of chill tonight.
I need this fire. The kind that doesn't ask questions—only acts.
I descended to the lower level—the chamber where, no doubt, our guest-in-chains was being kept under watch by the men I brought along.
The house, in its odd paradox, was new but dressed in timeworn charm. Beneath the modern bones of concrete and steel, its skin wore panels of aged timber, cloaking it in a heritage it never lived. Every piece of furniture gleamed with fresh polish yet whispered echoes of a century past. Each of the five bedrooms was papered with patterns that matched my shifting moods. As for what used to be my father's sanctum—it followed the home's disguise: elegant, vintage, and calculated.
I pushed the heavy oak door open. The twin sconces on either side of a portrait—of me, no less—flickered against the frame. Below it, a hearth sat cold, waiting for the night air to demand its fire.
And in the center of it all, kneeling before the towering glass window, was a man in a crumpled suit—blindfolded, silent, wrists bound behind him.
My brows pulled together.
This was supposed to be Kaelvynox Dravenquell.
I scanned the room again. Five of my guards stood in a line ahead of me; three others had already swept the perimeter of the island.
I looked back at the man—still, bound, shrouded in cloth and silence.
Was this really him?
The Knox I remembered was taller, lean, and always had a pair of spectacles perched on his nose.
I took a single step forward, doubt prickling down my spine.
Had we taken the wrong man?
My pulse thundered in my ears as I moved closer to the man bound before me. I tilted my head slightly, leaned in—and there it was. The subtle curl of his lips, maddeningly familiar. I glanced at Calystron, eyes narrowing in question.
I knew it was him, and yet… it didn't feel like it.
He should've been trembling, maybe even wailing in confusion by now. Instead, he sat quietly on his knees, as if he were anticipating my voice. Could he have already guessed it was me?
But how would he? Could he recognize my voice alone? Unlikely.
Unless, of course, guilt has a way of whispering answers in the dark.
"Pleasant evening, Mr. Dravenquell…" I said smoothly, lifting my gaze back to Calystron, who gave me a subtle nod of confirmation.
If this turns out to be the wrong man, heads are going to roll. But those lips, that chiseled nose—hell, the man's entire build had changed. His jaw was sharper now, shoulders broader. He wasn't the same fragile intellectual I remembered. Somewhere along the way, he'd turned into steel.
Confidence looks good on him. Annoying, but good.
"Oh, forgive me—Engineer Dravenquell. My mistake," I added with a blade of sarcasm.
I shifted to the side to study him from another angle. Even through the formal cut of his suit, I could tell—his arms had power now, his legs steady as stone. And in between them—
I cleared my throat.
So this is who he's become.
No wonder the fiancée turned out pristine—comes from a refined bloodline too. I guess when you're born with beauty and backed by money, the world bends before you like a blade of grass in a storm. My smirk faded into something colder.
"I apologize for crashing your day, but… I need you to actually listen to the business offer I've crafted. This time, with intent."
His jaw flexed—a silent storm gathering under calm waters. That twitch unsettled me. I halted mid-step, studying him from the side like a piece of artwork that had suddenly changed colors. Late twenties? Pushing thirty?
Time doesn't just pass—it rebuilds people.
"And since you've so eloquently ignored every letter I sent—every plea I penned with more pride than I should've—I decided to skip the paper and bring the matter face to face. Now, you'll listen. Fully."
He stayed as he was—silent, still, unreadable. I ran a hand through my hair, annoyed.
He had sent me a reply, once. A cold, cruel one. After all I'd risked to reach out. After all the humility I forced myself to swallow. And he... dismissed me.
How dare he.
"But before we proceed—answer me this," I said, voice leveled, "Do you even know who I am, Engineer Dravenquell?"
A smirk carved its way onto his face, slow and sardonic. He straightened slightly, and with a flick of his tongue across his lips, replied:
"Skip the theatrics, Miss Velmireaux. Just tell me what you dragged me here for."
A crooked smile stretched across my lips as I took a slow step toward him. Without a word, I glanced at Vaelricon and flicked my fingers in a silent command. He gave a sharp nod, fingers brushing the weapon tucked beneath his coat.
I leaned in, close enough that my breath met the shell of my captive's ear.
"Still playing the brilliant one, are we?"
His jaw hardened—stone pressed against bone. He turned his head away from me, toward the shadows. I smiled wider.
"Ah, so I still twist your nerves, Kaelvynox. Even after all these years?"
No reply. His silence was as sharp as ever, but the tension in his face betrayed him.
"Falling for your darling fiancée that fast? So fast you won't even let me borrow you for just a sliver of time?" I said sweetly, each word laced with mock affection.
My eyes traced the line of his mouth. A flicker of mischief sparked in me. I had the impulse to provoke him further—but not too far, not in front of an audience. Still… a kiss on the cheek wouldn't raise alarms, would it?
I brushed my lips gently across his cheek. He didn't flinch. Not even a twitch. He could've turned away, even a bit. But no—he stayed still, like a statue waiting for the storm.
I leaned in again, another peck, but this time he shifted—suddenly. My lips nearly grazed the edge of his mouth.
I snapped upright, stunned, blinking in disbelief.
His brow arched in wicked amusement, a grin playing along his lips like a secret untold. I mouthed the words, What the hell—grateful that blindfold still cloaked his eyes.
"Why not aim a little higher, Miss Velmireaux?" he drawled, lips curling into a grin. "A kiss on the mouth might just sharpen my focus."
Without blinking, I pointed at Vaelricon. In a breath, the barrel of a gun met Kaelvynox's temple.
"That's what smart mouths earn," I said flatly.
He didn't speak again—but the smug grin refused to leave his face. For some reason, that grin began to unsettle me. My own amusement faded, the edge in my voice breaking just slightly.
"That's what'll help you concentrate, right?" I murmured, though the question was more to myself than to him.
Still no reply. Silent now, but no less dangerous. Fine. The games were over.
"I'm going to release you," I said, my tone shifting to steel. "But only under the terms I set. You refuse, and you stay locked on this island until your will breaks—or your body does. You agree, and you leave with me. You breathe word of this to anyone, and I promise you won't have another breath to waste."
That wiped the grin from his face. Even beneath the blindfold, I could see the rage twitching through his jaw, feel the heat behind his silence.
"You already know what I want. You'll cut ties with your golden fiancée and join my cause. Unless, of course, you'd rather hand over what I'm asking for without a ceremonial mess—I'd like that better, honestly."
"This... is your grand strategy?" he asked finally, voice colder than ice. "This is how far you've fallen?"
"And why exactly do you care how low I go?" I snapped back, the fire returning to my eyes.
"If you had gone to Xavrenith instead of kidnapping someone, he might've actually lifted a finger to help. But your company's a ship already halfway to the ocean floor. Trying to keep it afloat? You're only dragging yourself down with it. Best to let it die quietly and build anew—"
"I didn't drag you here for life advice, Dravenquell!" I snapped, my voice slicing through his sentence like glass. "I have a deal on the table. All I need is a yes or no. Your insights are as unnecessary as your moral compass."
His jaw ticked again—tight, deliberate silence. A muscle along his arm flexed, a twitch like he was ready to break the ropes. I gave Vaelricon a quick glance; he adjusted his aim, the muzzle of the weapon now pressed closer to Knox's temple.
"This isn't complicated," I said, smoothing my tone into something soft and sinister. "All I want is a share. But of course, if you hand it to me outright, people will wonder. So we pretend. A clean little marriage solves the story gap. Your sweetheart? She'll just have to... adjust."
"That's your plan? Strong-arming your way into something sacred?" His voice now held a brittle edge, like he was trying hard not to explode.
Perfect.
"If you had responded to my letter with a spine, none of this would've happened."
"Your idea is lunacy," he hissed. "Your father left that company buried under lawsuits and debt. The whole city's watching it rot. You can't spin this into gold. Why don't you accept reality and rebuild with dignity instead of plunging further into your madness?"
"Because," I smiled coldly, "dignity doesn't pay bills. Obedience does. And all will be well—if you do exactly what I say, Knox."
His jaw clenched so tight I thought he'd snap a molar. He didn't speak, but I could imagine what he'd do if those ropes vanished. Probably lunge at me.
He won't get the chance. One wrong move and he'll be dead before he stands.
His jaw locked again—tight, rigid, angry. If he had even the slightest slack on his binds, I could already imagine his fist flying toward me in raw frustration. Not that it would land. He wouldn't live long enough to finish the swing.
"So that woman really has you wrapped around her finger, huh?" I muttered, circling him slowly like a storm cloud. "All this fuss over one woman? This could've been a simple arrangement. Had you just responded to my messages instead of ghosting me, we wouldn't be having this little... misunderstanding."
I paced to his other side, inspecting him from a fresh angle. He had changed—more than I thought. Taller, broader, rougher at the edges. Time sculpted him into something... inconveniently compelling.
"Here's the deal," I said, voice cool but firm. "Transfer a decent chunk of your shares into my collapsing company. That alone will breathe life back into it. The income will cover my father's debts while I work on clearing his name. He deserves to be free."
I wandered toward the grand hearth, eyes landing on my framed portrait above it. The oil paint version of me stared back—prideful, chin raised, cold eyes. Pretty accurate.
"You have the power, Knox. Between Draxenthal Dominion and Virellith Dynamics, your hands practically mold the economy. Send supplies to my estates and the rest will fall into place."
I turned to him again. He was still kneeling, the gun barrel from Vaelricon's hand steady against his temple. My guards looked at me—not him. Always me.
Then something sharp twisted in my chest. A flicker of pity. No—not for him. For me. I swallowed hard, the bitter truth sinking in.
I had clawed and burned every path just to keep my father from disappearing behind bars. I worshipped that man. Since losing my mother to that wreck, Xavrenith said my father spiraled into addiction, casinos, debts. I never really believed it—I never saw it. He was always gone, and I was always being raised by shadows in uniforms.
School. Schedules. Silence. That's all I ever had.
I walked away from the archipelago when I realized my heart belonged to steel, glass, and blueprints. I chased the skyline while my father stayed behind—anchored in smoke-filled rooms and the reckless echo of roulette wheels. And now, everything's unraveling.
But I? I won't. I refuse to let the world witness my collapse. I will not be a tragic headline. I will rise above the wreckage and stay there—untouchable. Let my father waste lifetimes in dim-lit gambling dens; I'll make enough to burn money and still not run out. I swear it.
"So tell me, Knox," I asked slowly, sharply, "are you ready to play this game with me?"
"No," he answered—like a steel door slamming shut.
My jaw clenched so tight it ached. I didn't come all this way to waste time while my father's life dissolves behind iron bars. I needed cooperation. But if he chooses defiance, I'll give him chains.
"Vaelricon," I said flatly.
Without hesitation, Vaelricon pressed the barrel of his pistol deeper into Knox's skull.
"I'm asking one last time, Engineer Dravenquell," I said, voice like flint. "Are you in, or do I bury you here?"
"No," he said again, with the weight of a thousand locked doors behind it.
He was pushing me to the edge.
I gave a slight nod to Calystron, signaling it was time to escort the prisoner to his cell—the one we don't talk about. Calystron hesitated for a heartbeat, glancing from Kaelvynox back to me.
"Ma'am… are you sure?" he asked carefully.
"Secure him," I commanded.
Calystron glanced again at Kaelvynox, hesitating—as if my words were suddenly foreign to his ears.
"Lock. Him. Up. Now," I repeated, each word clipped like a blade being drawn.
But in the blink of an eye—faster than logic could catch up—Kaelvynox shed his restraints like they were made of paper. With calculated calm, he reached up and stripped the blindfold from his face.
I barely had time to inhale.
My voice was ready to erupt—prepared to flay my useless guards with fury—but then, everything froze.
Vaelricon turned his weapon. Not toward the prisoner. Toward me.
Kaelvynox rose, quiet as thunder before the strike. His eyes—sharp as obsidian and locked on mine—carried storms in them. His figure swallowed the light filtering through the windows, casting a shadow so commanding it felt like the sun itself had bowed to him.
"Calystron!" I cried, but he moved toward me—not with protection, but betrayal.
Before I could recoil, his hands seized mine, binding them with merciless efficiency.
"What in the seven hells are you doing?!" I screamed, struggling, twisting, panicking. "Calystron! Vaelricon! You bastards!"
They said nothing.
No excuses. No hesitation.
Kaelvynox kept walking toward me—unhurried, unreadable, unforgiving. His jaw was tight, brows drawn, face carved in cold marble. The kind of calm that only comes before an avalanche.
I looked up at him, rage and disbelief crashing in my chest like waves in a storm.
"What is this madness? Have you all lost your minds?! How dare you touch me!?"
The fury boiling in my chest had nowhere to go. I was a dam breaking from within, trembling with such raw rage it blurred into tears—but no, my anger burned hotter than anything I could cry away.
"You... you orchestrated all of this! How—how the hell did you...?"
How did he turn Calystron? Vaelricon? Every damn bodyguard I trusted? Was Caeloura part of this twisted play, too? How deep did this betrayal go?
"What is it you want from me?!" I screamed, my voice shattering against the stone walls like broken glass.
Panic surged.
Was he going to call the authorities? Was this his version of justice?
I thrashed, wrenching my wrists against the binds. My body jerked violently, trying to break free from their grasp. A kick landed hard, forcing some of them to stumble back.
"Secure her legs," Kaelvynox commanded coolly, and my heart collapsed in fury.
"You son of a bitch!" I roared, unhinged. "You absolute bastard! Rot in hell, Kaelvynox Dravenquell! Burn in hell!"
"Gag her, Calystron," he snapped, and his voice sliced through the chaos like a blade. I froze—not out of fear, but disbelief.
He peeled off his coat, his fingers dragging across the back of his neck as if the burden of betrayal weighed heavily on him, too. The irony.
Calystron produced a strip of pitch-black duct tape and pressed it firmly over my mouth. I kept yelling through it, but the sound was lost in mumbles, strangled by silence.
Kaelvynox looked down at me again, and this time his stare was winter itself—bitter, frigid, and inhumanly calm.
"Put her in the containment chamber," he said coldly.
I screamed beneath the tape, curses drowned by adhesive.
I will remember this.
Rot in a cell? Fine. I'd rather rot than kneel. And if I make it out of this godforsaken island, I will tear them down piece by piece—every traitorous dog in that room. And Caeloura, if you sold me out... pray I never walk free again.