𝑀𝒶𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝑒𝒶 | 𝟏𝟖+

15

Ellianna Kingston

"And you're out of warnings," Kairos said, his voice dropping to a dangerously low tone that sent a chill down my spine.

Before I could even process his words, he reached for my hand, and instinctively, I jerked it back. The defiance was immediate, like a reflex I couldn't control, and I barely had time to register his reaction before his expression hardened.

His eyes narrowed, a flare of anger flickering there that made me freeze. Without a word, he reached for me again, this time grabbing my wrist with a force that stopped me cold. His fingers pressed into my skin, rough and unyielding, and the sudden intensity of his grip made my heart race with something that felt too close to fear.

A lump formed in my throat, and I felt my eyes sting with unshed tears. My mind raced as the weight of the moment settled over me, the realization crashing down that I didn't truly know Kairos.

I barely knew who he was beneath the charm, beneath those smooth smiles and playful words. And here he was, standing close, looking at me with a severity that I hadn't seen before.

My chest tightened as I wondered, for a brief, panicked second, if he could actually hurt me.

Kairos's gaze flickered, his brows drawing together as he looked at me more closely. His grip loosened, almost as if he'd noticed the tremble in my wrist. Slowly, he released me, his hand falling away as he took a small step back, his eyes searching mine.

Kairos Vasileiou

I didn't mean to grab her so hard. But when she pulled back when I saw that flash of defiance, something inside me snapped. I wasn't used to being challenged, and her quick retreat lit a fire in me that I didn't expect.

But then, as I held her wrist, I saw it—the way her face softened, that hint of fear in her eyes, like she was bracing herself for something worse. She looked up at me with this wide, tear-glazed gaze, and in an instant, it felt like ice spreading through my veins.

It was the same look I'd seen too many times, on too many faces. The look of people I'd... well, people I'd dealt with. People who knew they didn't stand a chance, who knew they weren't leaving our encounters alive. It was a look I'd tried to bury somewhere deep. To keep separate from this, from her.

I let go, my hand falling away as guilt twisted in my gut. "I'm sorry," I said, voice low. I'd meant it to be firm, to keep up my control, but the words slipped out with a softness I hadn't intended.

She was different. She wasn't supposed to be afraid of me. I didn't want to thrive off of it. Not with her.

Elle's voice broke the silence, barely above a whisper. "It's fine."

But it wasn't fine. I could hear the lie in her tone, the way her words fell flat, a thin shield she put up just to keep me at a distance. She was trying to appease me, to say what I wanted to hear, but her eyes told a different story. They were guarded, careful. She was saying it to avoid another reaction from me, not because she meant it.

The thought made something twist uncomfortably in my chest.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, trying to keep my voice steady, softer than usual. "Elle... I'd never hurt you," I said, and the words came out with more weight than I expected. "Kidnap you? Absolutely. Take you places without warning, push you to your limits, keep you guessing... sure." I allowed a faint smirk, something to break the tension, but her gaze remained fixed on me, watching, waiting.

"But hurt you?" I shook my head. "That's not something I'd ever do."

She studied me for a moment like she was searching for something in my expression, some kind of assurance. And I felt it again—that pang of guilt, that reminder of the look she'd given me a few minutes ago, the one that mirrored faces I'd tried to forget. Faces that had looked at me with fear.

I held her gaze, hoping she could see the truth in mine. "You don't need to be afraid of me." I added quietly.

In my line of work, words like "trust" and "honesty" were as rare as gold, hardly worth their weight. But here, with her, I found myself wanting those words to mean something. She might challenge me, and frustrate me beyond reason, but the last thing I wanted was to be a source of fear in her life.

—

Four days had passed, and I hadn't seen Elle outside her room since that night. Every day, I waited, expecting to catch a glimpse of her in the hall or hear her footsteps somewhere on the ship. But each time, nothing. She stayed behind that door, and it was starting to gnaw at me in a way I couldn't ignore.

She'd take the meals I left by her door—that much I knew. I'd see the empty plates waiting outside in the morning, but that was it. No words, no looks, just this steady silence stretching between us.

I'd told myself that she needed space, that maybe some time alone would settle whatever she was feeling. I wanted to respect that, to give her the time she seemed to want. But with each day, that patience was fraying.

I found myself standing outside her door, listening for any sound that might hint at what was going on in her mind. The space between us felt like a chasm, and as much as I wanted to bridge it, I was almost hesitant to disturb whatever quiet retreat she'd sought behind that door.

I wasn't used to worrying about anyone like this, especially over something as simple as a few days of silence. But here I was, feeling this persistent urge to break through her self-imposed wall and check on her. To know if she was okay, if she was ready to look me in the eye again, to trust me—if she even could.

I thought about knocking, maybe giving her some excuse to open the door. But the memory of that last look she'd given me still lingered, a reminder that maybe I'd already done enough damage. So I stayed there, hands in my pockets, fighting the urge to barge in and fix this.

I walked down the dimly lit hallway, the soft hum of the ship's engine a steady backdrop, and turned toward the lounge area, hoping it might take the edge off the restless energy clawing at me. Three days and Elle hadn't left her room. I still couldn't shake the weight of it—the waiting, the wondering if I'd pushed too far.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, pulling me out of my thoughts. The screen flashed with Lacy's name. Not a usual call at this time. I clicked to answer, lifting the phone to my ear as I stepped into the empty lounge.

"Lacy," I greeted her, leaning against the bar. The room was silent except for the faint echo of the sea against the hull. For once, I appreciated the emptiness.

"Kairos, everything's set on my end," she said, her tone clipped, and efficient.

"Good," I replied, keeping my voice steady. "And you're sure she's okay to do it."

"Yes. She'll appreciate it." She paused, her voice dropping a little, barely above a whisper. "He's still going through with it, then?"

"Absolutely," I said, not missing a beat. "I know he lied about it but still they have to learn how to get along."

"Yeah," she muttered, sounding less than thrilled. "But you remember what happened last time?"

I clenched my jaw, pushing the memory away. "He won't make that mistake again."

There was a moment of silence as if she was weighing my answer. Finally, she replied, "Alright, then. Just... keep me in the loop."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair, trying to shake the feeling that something was slipping out of my control.

Then, I caught a slight sound—a barely-there rustling, coming from the hall outside the lounge. It was subtle, like someone moving quickly, trying to avoid being seen. My mind went on alert, instincts snapping into place.

But I didn't call out or make a move. Instead, I waited a moment, listening to the silence that had settled again, feeling that faint hint of someone nearby.

I waited another beat before turning toward the windows again, pretending I hadn't noticed a thing. I took a breath, staring out through the lounge's wide windows, the moonlight casting a silvery glow over the dark waves. My life was a string of complications.

The last thing I wanted was for Elle to get pulled into this.