The wind howled low across the dark sea, and the sky above was smothered with storm-colored clouds. Sebastian stood at the helm of his sleek private boat, one hand gripping the wheel while the other rested against the console. Midnight pressed in like a silent judge, cold and thick with tension, but it suited his mood just fine. The mainland felt too loud, too full of games and people he didn’t trust. He needed silence and space.

And most of all, he needed to get back to the island.

The water stretched endlessly around him, a shifting sheet of ink under the glow of the yacht's running lights. The boat sliced through it smoothly, as if even the sea knew better than to resist him tonight.

He still had a few days before the board meeting—enough time to breathe and regroup. He hated how the city buzzed around him, with thin smiles, whispers behind closed doors, and old ghosts in expensive heels trying to force their way back into his life.

He exhaled slowly, watching the shoreline vanish behind him in the distance. The mainland could rot for all he cared. Let the suits fight over mergers and numbers. Let Vivienne parade herself through polished hallways like a queen without a crown. He’d deal with them soon enough.

But not before he handled what was waiting on the island.

Because something wasn’t right there, either.

His thoughts drifted to the girl who stayed behind on his island. To the samples Mitch had shared with him. And to the very real fear crawling at the back of his neck that what he’d found wasn’t just a fluke.

He pushed the throttle forward, speeding across the open sea, faster than he needed to. The faster he got there, the sooner he could get back to the truth.

The boat pulled in quietly to the hidden dock nestled between jagged cliffs and thick trees. There were no lights. Just the island, wrapped in fog and silence, the way Sebastian liked it.

He secured the ropes with the efficiency of a man who preferred doing things himself, then slung his leather duffel over his shoulder. The air was different here—cleaner, colder, untouched by the grime of the mainland. Not many people even knew this island existed, and even fewer had ever set foot on it. That was the point.

Even no one knew that his main retreat was the lavish underground villa buried beneath the far side of the island—polished steel corridors, biometric locks, imported marble, surveillance in every corner. It was a palace for a king who liked secrets.

But he didn’t head there. Not tonight.

Because the girl was in the old cabin. The small, unassuming one nestled in the woods. The one no outsider would think twice about. The one he'd built for himself, long before the villa. It wasn’t glamorous but quiet, safe, and remote. And it had become hers now, whether she realized it or not.

He approached the door slowly, his fingers tightening on the handle before pushing it open without a sound.

Inside, the room was dimly lit by the flicker of a single wall lamp. Once he stepped in, his eyes drifted immediately to the cot in the corner.

The girl was there. Curled up under the blanket like a fragile wisp of life. Her breathing was soft and steady. Her hair spilt over the pillow. Her face was pale, but peaceful.

He didn’t move for a few seconds. Just watched.

Then, he crossed the room without turning on any more lights and set down his duffel with a quiet thud. He loosened his collar, reaching for the water bottle on the counter when—

A sound.

Soft at first. A breath caught in the throat. A whimper.

Then a second. More urgent.

He turned.

Her body tensed. Her head thrashed slightly against the pillow, hands twitching. The blanket slid off one shoulder as her lips parted in a shaky, terrified whisper.

“N-no… please…”

Sebastian took a step forward, instinctively, before stopping himself.

She began to whimper louder, struggling against something that wasn’t there. Her legs kicked beneath the covers, and her voice cracked as she let out a broken sob. Then she let out a sharp, piercing scream.

It sliced straight through the quiet room, shaking the walls with pain that didn’t belong to the present.

Sebastian’s eyes darkened. Without hesitation, he moved quickly but calmly.

He crouched beside the cot.

“Hey—hey. You’re safe. It’s not real. It’s over.”

But she didn’t wake.

And as he reached for her shoulder, about to shake her out of the nightmare, a darker thought surfaced.

What exactly was she dreaming about? And who had put those screams in her head?

He wasn’t sure he wanted the answer. But he was damn sure he was going to find out.

The girl was trembling under his hand, and he could feel her heart racing through the thin fabric of her shirt. She let out another sob, and he leaned closer.

Then she cried out, a strangled, pained cry, and her eyes were still shut.

In a heartbeat, he pulled her against his chest, one hand moving to the back of her head, the other sliding behind her waist.

She shuddered, body curling instinctively into his warmth, fingers digging into his shirt. The only sounds were her sobs.

He grabbed her before she could move, his grip firm and steady, holding her in place.

But she was too far gone. Her eyes were wild and unfocused, still trapped in the nightmare.

So, he did the only thing he could think of. He gripped her arms tighter and pulled her into him.

She was so small and fragile, but she fought, her whole body tensing as if ready to snap. She struggled against him, and the terror in her voice cut him deeper than it should have.

She was trembling so hard now that it was like her bones might shake apart beneath his hands. Sebastian could feel every tremor, every sharp intake of breath, every wild, fluttering heartbeat through the thin barrier of her clothes. Her skin was clammy, her breath ragged as if she'd just run through hell itself.

Then came the sound that twisted something sharp and deep in his chest—a raw, strangled cry that cracked in the middle, filled with pain no one her age should’ve known.

He didn’t think, but just moved.

His arms wrapped around her in a single, fluid motion—one hand cradling the back of her head, gently shielding it, the other sliding around her waist and pulling her flush against his chest.

Her body curled into him instinctively, like she was searching for safety, heat, anything to cling to. Her small hands clutched at his shirt in desperation, her fingers fisting the fabric like it was her last anchor. She buried her face against his chest and sobbed, the kind of sobs that shook her whole frame.

He held her tighter.

Not too hard. Not enough to scare her more. But enough that she’d know—she wasn’t alone anymore.

The room was quiet except for her broken breathing and the occasional hitch in her voice. He leaned back slightly and brushed the damp strands of hair from her face, but her eyes weren’t seeing him. They were glassy, wild, darting at shadows only she could see. She wasn't awake. Not really. Still trapped in whatever horror clawed at her from the inside.

She whimpered and thrashed again.

“No,” she gasped, barely audible. “No—don’t—please—”

He tightened his grip before she could bolt. “It’s alright,” he whispered. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

But she didn’t hear him. Her fists struck weakly against his chest. She fought like an animal cornered and afraid, her body too small, too thin, too broken to do any damage, but the fear in her voice—that cut him deeper than he cared to admit.

Without thinking, he lay down with her, pulling her body fully into his, shielding her with the length of his own. His legs tangled with hers, his arms curled around her protectively, and he murmured something low, steady, and reassuring near her ear.

He didn’t even know what he was saying—just noise, rhythm, something steady she could latch onto.

Her resistance finally began to melt. Her breathing slowed, though still shaky. She turned her head slightly into his neck, fingers still twisted in his shirt, her lashes fluttering weakly against his skin.

And that’s when it hit him.

That strange, buried heat in his chest. Something unfamiliar and inconvenient. It was intimate and dangerous.

He wasn’t supposed to feel this. But he did. And it made him furious.

It wasn't a feeling he was used to.

He'd forgotten what it was like to feel this kind of softness, especially for a girl he'd only just met.

As her body trembled against his, he could feel the soft curve of her breasts pressing into his chest, her thighs brushing his. He could smell her scent. Feel her heartbeat. Hear the sound of her breathing.

The scent of her, faint and clean, like warm linen and saltwater. The way she fit against him, small and breakable and yet full of some strange, quiet resilience. The way his own heart beat faster just holding her, as if trying to match hers.

He swallowed hard.

Something stirred deep within him. A primal, possessive feeling. Something hungry or somewhat protective. Something that didn't belong to him. And that scared the hell out of him.

He can feel his arousal and heat surged through him, pooling dangerously at his core.

The last time he felt this was years ago.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, willing his body to calm. He tried to ignore the fact that she was nestled between his legs. That his hardness was pressing into her lower abdomen.

But as she shifted with a slow, languid movement, her leg moved up slightly, her knee brushing his inner thigh.

It was a dangerous line to cross, one that he wasn’t willing to.

Damn it!

He’d promised himself he would never let anyone in again. He’d built walls around his life, this island... and his heart.

But now—now there was this girl in his arms, whimpering in her sleep, trembling like the world had betrayed her.

And for a terrifying second, he didn’t want to let her go.