𝑀𝒶𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝑒𝒶 | 𝟏𝟖+

17.

Ellianna Kingston

I lay curled up in my bed, staring at the wall. The room felt colder than usual, the silence thick and suffocating. My stomach growled in protest, but I ignored it. I hadn't touched the food Kairos had been sending up. The thought of eating anything he gave me made my skin crawl. I just couldn't trust him. Not after today.

The door creaked open, and I tensed. I didn't have to look to know it was him. I heard his footsteps, slow and deliberate, and then the mattress dipped as he sat down next to me. His presence was heavy, the heat from his body creeping across the space between us. I stayed still, hoping he would take the hint and leave, but he didn't. Instead, he lay down beside me, his arm draped over the side of the bed, close but not quite touching.

"What's going on, Elle?" His voice was soft, laced with a concern that almost sounded real. Almost. "You've been locked in here for days. You're not eating. You barely even look at me."

I swallowed, the knot in my throat tightening. I wanted to snap at him, to tell him to get out and leave me alone. Of course, I wouldn't talk to you, you kidnapped me. But the words stuck.

I hated the way his voice seemed sincere like he actually cared. It made me feel like I was the one being unreasonable. Like maybe I was overreacting, jumping to conclusions. But then I remembered the phone call, the way he had spoken to Lacy, all the lies.

He shifted closer, his shoulder almost brushing against mine. "You know you can talk to me," he murmured, as if we hadn't spent the last few days playing this silent game. As if he hadn't dragged me back to this ship against my will. "Whatever's bothering you, we can fix it."

I turned my head slightly, meeting his gaze. His eyes were gentle, filled with something that might have been a genuine concern—or it could have been a carefully crafted mask. I didn't know which anymore. But I couldn't keep playing along. I was tired of pretending, of acting like I hadn't heard what I'd heard.

"How do you know Lacy?" I asked, my voice steadier than I felt.

The question hung in the air between us, thick and heavy, as I searched his face for any flicker of truth.

Kairos Vasileiou

I took Elle's hand, my grip firm but not rough as I guided her down the hallway. She resisted at first, her fingers curling slightly, but I didn't let go. She needed to hear this, and I wasn't giving her the choice to avoid it any longer. We reached the lounge, and I pulled her toward the egg chair—her favorite spot on the ship, the place she always seemed to gravitate back to.

"Sit," I said, keeping my tone calm as I guided her down into the plush seat. She sank into the cushion reluctantly, her body tense. I didn't give her a chance to bolt. I climbed in next to her, pulling her close, maneuvering her so she was sitting in my lap, pressed against my chest.

She stiffened, but I wrapped my arms around her, keeping her snugly in place as I settled back, trying to make us both comfortable in the small space. Her scent—something faintly sweet, like vanilla—reached me as I held her there, and it stirred something I didn't want to acknowledge.

"I know we should've had this talk before," I murmured against her ear, my lips brushing the side of her face. "But I didn't want to hurt you anymore."

I could feel her pulse quicken under my touch, the subtle shift in her breathing. She wasn't convinced, not yet, and I didn't blame her. There were layers to this that she hadn't even begun to unravel, and I almost regretted being the one to peel them back.