Dylan surfaced from the darkness to the sound of muffled voices, blinking against a room rendered in shifting shapes and gray blurs.
A heavy, throbbing ache pounded behind his eyes, the lingering haze of whatever chemical they had pumped into his veins making every detail hard to pin down.
“Mr.
Pierce.”
The voice drifted from somewhere far away.
“Mr.
Pierce.”
Lifting his head, he fought to clear the fog.
His wrists were locked behind the back of a wooden chair, and his boots were tightly bound to the legs.
Sitting across from him at a sleek desk was the man from the poolside.
The memory of the coastal ambush snapped into sharp focus.
Yve.
Dylan immediately slammed his weight forward, straining violently against the restraints.
“Where is she?”
“Hey, calm down.”
“Where is she?”
The man frowned slightly, leaning forward with a measured expression.
“Who?
The other girl?”
“Yve.”
“Huh.” The man leaned back, folding his hands.
“How do you know her?”
“None’a your business.”
A soft sigh escaped the man.
“Look, we’re not bad people here.
You’re the one who fired at my men first.”
Dylan let out a single, humorless laugh.
“That’s ’cause your men were snatchin’ people off the street.” His glare hardened into something lethal.
“The hell you runnin’ here?
Human traffickin’?”
A low chuckle answered him.
“I believe there’s a huge misunderstanding between us.”
Dylan wasn’t listening.
His attention remained entirely fixed on the steel bite of the cuffs as he wrenched his arms again, ignoring every attempt at polite conversation.
“Mr.
Dylan Pierce.”
Silence.
With a sudden, explosive heave, Dylan threw his entire weight sideways.
The chair tipped over, crashing hard onto the carpeted floor as he kept fighting to wrench his hands free.
The man rose instinctively, taking a step forward before halting as the secretary quietly whispered something into his ear.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then the man straightened his jacket.
“Once you’ve calmed down, we’ll talk.”
Dylan answered by straining harder against the metal biting into his wrists.
Taking that as his cue, the man turned toward the exit.
A moment later, the office door clicked shut behind him, leaving Dylan alone with his restraints and a rapidly disappearing supply of patience.
~~~
Yve woke with a low groan, pressing a hand against her temple as the lingering haze of the tranquilizer throbbed behind her eyes.
Every limb felt leaden, and simply opening her lips required a deliberate effort.
A quiet yawn escaped her as she pushed herself up against the pillows, letting the strange, sterile room slowly resolve into focus.
The door clicked open.
“Yve.”
The familiar cadence cut straight through the fog.
She blinked once, twice, and then her eyes widened in absolute disbelief.
“Darnell!”
The headache vanished from her thoughts instantly.
“Oh my heavens, you’re here!”
Before he could take another step, she scrambled off the bed and threw her arms around him, nearly sending them both backward with the force of the impact.
Darnell laughed, catching her and returning the embrace with a firm, grounding hold.
“It’s good to see you too.”
“What happened to you?
Where have you been?” Pulling back just enough to look him over, her voice carried a mixture of accusation and pure relief.
“It’s been twenty five years!”
“I know.”
A flicker of genuine regret crossed his features.
“I’m sorry, Yve.
I should’ve visited.”
“You should’ve.”
She pulled him right back into another tight hug anyway.
Shaking his head with a small, fond smile, Darnell eventually guided her toward a nearby sofa.
“There’s something I should apologize for first,” he began, settling across from her.
Yve tilted her head.
“What?”
“The tranquilizers.”
Understanding dawned in an instant.
“Oh.”
“You weren’t exactly going to come willingly.”
“Probably not.” A bright laugh escaped her.
“That really stung, by the way.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Though…” Yve stretched her arms over her head, letting out a contented sigh.
“I did have a very nice sleep.”
Darnell couldn’t help the chuckle that broke through his controlled exterior.
Only then did the easy warmth in her expression falter, her eyes darting around the perimeter of the room.
“Wait.” She leaned forward.
“Where’s Lara?”
“The other girl?”
Yve nodded eagerly.
“My human friend.
Is she okay?”
“She’s fine.” Darnell leaned back against the cushions.
“She’s just still asleep.
My men used multiple tranquilizer rounds because they thought she was a siren too.
She’ll probably be out for a couple more hours.”
The tension drained visibly from Yve’s shoulders.
“Oh, good.”
A heavy, comfortable quiet settled between them for a moment before she looked up at him again.
The smile returned, wide and radiant.
“I’m so happy to see you.”
Before he could formulate a response, she launched herself across the space for yet another hug.
This time, Darnell simply surrendered, wrapping his arms around her with an amused shake of his head.
The next hour dissolved into an endless stream of stories, questions, and overlapping memories as they tried to bridge twenty-five years of absence.
~~~
Dylan spent several minutes studying the room in silence, perfectly still.
Anyone watching through the lens of the security system would have assumed the sedative was still fogging his reflexes.
It wasn’t.
The moment the solitary guard on watch let his attention wander toward the window, Dylan moved.
With a sudden heave, he threw his weight backward, tipping the heavy chair over.
It crashed against the floor hard enough to startle the guard, who cursed under his breath and hurried over, bending down to right him.
That was his mistake.
Dylan snapped his head forward, driving the crown of his skull straight into the bridge of the man’s nose with a sickening crunch.
The guard dropped instantly, folding into the carpet without a sound.
Dylan wasted zero time.
The violent impact had frayed one of the thick bindings securing his ankles.
Twisting and straining against the remaining cordage with ruthless leverage, he tore the fiber until it snapped, freeing his legs to plant beneath him.
Standing was the easy part.
Breaking free of the steel cuffs locked behind his back while half a shattered chair remained strapped to his frame was another matter entirely.
Planting his boots, Dylan hurled his back against the reinforced wall.
Once.
The wood groaned.
Twice.
The frame cracked.
On the third violent impact, the chair splintered apart entirely, leaving him standing with his wrists still cuffed behind him.
Breathing hard, he knelt beside the unconscious man and hooked his fingers through the keys dangling from the tactical belt.
Working entirely by touch, he unlocked the heavy steel cuffs with a sharp click.
Freedom.
Without breaking rhythm, Dylan stripped the guard’s sidearm and spare magazine, sliding them into place before slipping out into the hallway.
The estate was quiet.
Too quiet.
Hugging the walls and clearing corners with precise, tactical footwork, he advanced down the corridor, searching for an exit or any sign of Yve.
A pair of patrol guards rounded the far intersection a moment later.
Neither saw him until it was too late.
The lead guard crumpled silently as Dylan closed the distance, while the second barely managed to gasp before an iron grip dragged him backward into an empty side room.
Within seconds, the hallway was deserted once more.
Dylan stepped back out, weapon raised, pushing deeper into the heart of the mansion with cold, unyielding purpose.
Counting the guards he had left in his wake was a waste of energy; Dylan only knew that Yve’s voice was echoing from just beyond the heavy timber door.
The brief flash of relief evaporated instantly.
Kicking the door open, he burst into the room with his pistol leveled, stepping immediately between Yve and everyone else inside.
“Back up.”
The command cracked through the space like a whip.
Several guards shifted instinctively, freezing the moment they found themselves staring straight down the barrel of his gun.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Darnell said, slowly raising his palms.
Dylan refused to break eye contact.
“You touch her again and we’re gonna have a problem.”
“Wait!” This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
Yve’s voice cut through the razor-thin tension.
“No, Dylan!”
Before he could react, a familiar, deceptively slight weight slammed into him from behind.
One heartbeat he was standing guard, and the next he was flat on his back, the impact driving the air from his lungs.
His pistol spun out of his grip, skidding across the floor to disappear beneath a low table.
Lifting his head, he blinked up in sheer bewilderment.
“Yve?”
“Stop.”
Her tone held no trace of fear or desperation.
If anything, she sounded thoroughly exasperated.
Dylan tried to twist away, only to discover that the ruthless leverage and adrenaline that had just carried him through an army of armed operatives meant absolute zero here.
Yve pinned him down with casual, effortless weight, as immovable as an anchor.
“The hell are you doin’?”
“Calm down.”
“Yve-”
“Please.
Just trust me.”
The room had gone entirely silent.
Dylan stared up at her, trying to reconcile the impossible physics of the situation.
Being pinned to the floor by a woman he had spent the last few days treating like a fragile civilian was jarring enough; the terrifying ease with which she held him down was something else entirely.
“How are you this strong?”
A light laugh slipped past her lips.
“Dylan…” She shook her head with a faint smile.
“Shh.”
Looking past her, Dylan finally took in the wider room.
There was no terror in her eyes, no sign of coercion, and no hidden plea for rescue.
Nothing about her posture matched that of a captive.
Slowly, the fight drained from his shoulders.
The moment Yve climbed off and stepped back, the guards moved in, hauling him roughly upright before Darnell could intervene.
“You okay?” Darnell asked, watching the exchange.
“Yes!” Yve replied immediately, smoothing her shirt.
“I’m fine.”
Darnell’s gaze flicked to the operatives gripping Dylan’s arms.
“That’s not necessary.”
The guards released him at once.
Flexing his sore wrists, Dylan glared between Yve, Darnell, and the room full of armed professionals who were behaving with the exact opposite of hostile intent.
“What the hell’s goin’ on?”
“Seems like…” A thin, knowing smile crossed Darnell’s face as he settled back into his chair.
“we owe you an explanation.”
~~~
Dylan barely touched the coffee, letting the steaming mug sit cooling before him while his attention remained fixed entirely on Yve.
Across the table, she seemed far more absorbed in her own cup, darting a glance his way every few seconds only to find his steady stare and quickly look somewhere else.
The quiet stretched long enough to curdle into open awkwardness.
Finally, Darnell cleared his throat.
“Well.
I suppose introductions are in order.”
Dylan shifted his gaze to the older man.
“My name is Darnell Unos Virellis,” he said, a small, polite smile touching his lips.
“Yve’s uncle.”
For a long moment, Dylan simply stared, then pivoted his look back to Yve.
“Thought you said your whole family’s dead.”
Both Yve and Darnell blinked in mutual confusion.
“What?” Yve frowned.
“I never said that.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“When?”
“At the beach.
‘Fore I took you to social services.”
Yve wrinkled her brow, rummaging through her memories before realization clicked.
Oh!
She pointed an accusing finger at him.
“That’s what you thought?”
Dylan raised an eyebrow.
“No, no, no.” She waved both hands in defense.
“I never said they were dead.
If anything, my family’s very much alive.”
Dylan narrowed his eyes.
“Then where are they?”
“There.” Yve pointed past the glass pane toward the horizon.
Dylan followed the vector of her arm.
“The ocean.”
“Yes.”
A pause stretched out.
“Didn’t know there was an island out there.”
Across the table, Darnell pressed his lips together while Yve suddenly found the rim of her coffee mug fascinating.
“Well…” she began, then stalled.
“Technically…”
Another pause.
Dylan continued staring.
Yve looked at Darnell.
Darnell looked at Yve.
Yve looked back at Dylan.
“See, that’s kind of difficult to explain.”
“Uh-huh.”
She opened her mouth, closed it, tried again, and gave up entirely.
Darnell finally took pity on her.
“Perhaps I should.”
Yve visibly melted into her seat.
“Please do.”
Folding his hands together, Darnell measured his words.
“We haven’t seen each other for many years.
A few weeks ago, I received a call from her mother informing me that Yve had run away.”
“I didn’t run away,” Yve muttered into her cup.
“You disappeared without telling anyone.”
“That’s ’cause she keeps pestering me about marrying Arcenaux.”
“And yet your solution was to run away like a child.”
Yve shrank slightly against the cushions.
“After that, I had people look for her,” Darnell continued smoothly.
“Eventually we tracked her down, and we discovered she was spending a considerable amount of time with you.”
Dylan remained silent, his expression flat.
“Our original intention was to bring her home peacefully.
Then you shot out the tire of one of my vehicles.”
“Was tryin’ to stop a kidnapping,” Dylan pointed out.
“I can see how, from your perspective, that’s what it looked like.”
Dylan leaned back, folding his arms.
“What kind of uncle uses tranquilizers to take a five-foot-nothin’ woman home?”
A small, amused smile tugged at the corner of Darnell’s mouth.
Beside him, Yve studiously avoided making eye contact.
The two of them exchanged a swift, telling glance—one Dylan caught immediately, and which did precisely nothing to soothe his nerves.
He looked between them, waiting for an elaboration that didn’t come.
Yve finally broke the standoff, reaching across the table to pat his arm.
“What’s important is that nobody’s being kidnapped, nobody’s being trafficked, nobody’s secretly running some criminal empire…” She paused for dramatic effect.
“…and nobody got hurt.”
Dylan stared at her, then at Darnell, and back to Yve.
Shaking his head, he pushed his chair back with a sharp scrape.
“This is ridiculous.”
The room quieted instantly.
“You got your uncle now,” Dylan said, his gaze sweeping across the opulent estate, the patrolling guards, and the silent efficiency of the staff.
“Seems like he’s doin’ just fine takin’ care of ya.”
“Dylan…”
“I’m serious.” He rose to his feet.
“Ain’t much reason for me to stick around.”
Yve was on her feet just as fast.
“What?
No.”
Dylan muttered, turning toward the exit.
“You’re movin’ out.”
Before he could take another stride, she intercepted him, wrapping both arms securely around his waist.
Dylan tried stepping forward.
Nothing happened.
“What the hell…” He tried prying her fingers loose.
They might as well have been welded of steel.
“How are you this strong?”
Yve only tightened her hold, burying her face against his back.
Across the table, Darnell took a leisurely sip of his coffee, looking entirely too entertained.
“Yve.”
“No.”
“Yve.”
“You’re not going anywhere, human.”
Dylan glanced over his shoulder toward Darnell, who nearly choked trying to suppress a laugh.
Yve ignored them both completely.
“Not without me.”
For several more seconds, Dylan tested the physics of escaping an impossible grip before realizing the effort was completely wasted.
Darnell finally set his cup down and stood up from his seat.
“Mr.
Pierce.”
“Please.
Let’s talk.”
A heavy silence lingered in the air.
Dylan glanced at Yve, then at Darnell, and back down at the woman who clearly had zero intention of letting him walk out the door.
“…Fine.”
The moment the word cleared his lips, Yve released him, stepping back with a bright nod.
“Good.”
Dylan rubbed his sore arm, glaring down at her.
“Wasn’t askin’ permission.”
“Too late.”
Before he could fire back, Yve’s expression lit up.
“Oh!
Lara!”
Both men turned their attention to her.
“I should see if she’s awake.”
Darnell offered a brief nod.
“Of course.” His gaze shifted to the secretary standing near the door.
“Please take her to her friend.”
The secretary bowed his head immediately.
“Right this way, Miss Yve.”
Yve started toward the exit, pausing only to point a warning finger back at Dylan.
“You stay here.”
Dylan opened his mouth to object.
Yve narrowed her eyes.
“Stay.”
Then she vanished down the corridor, leaving Dylan alone with Darnell.
Darnell waited until the heavy oak door had fully latched shut behind Yve before speaking again, while a waiter quietly refreshed the coffee before leaving the room.
Dylan barely acknowledged him, keeping his attention fixed on the door for another moment before shifting in his chair and rolling his right shoulder.
The knife.
He remembered the sickening thud of the blade sinking into his flesh, the hot flare of pain racing down his arm.
Without thinking, he tugged his collar aside to inspect the exact spot where he had been stabbed.
There wasn’t even a scar.
“What?”
Darnell caught the movement instantly.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Dylan checked his other shoulder just to be sure.
Nothing.
No angry red skin.
No stitches.
Nothing at all.
“Better if you don’t ask too many questions,” Darnell said.
“Some answers tend to create more questions than they solve.”
Dylan let his shirt fall back into place.
Darnell set his cup down.
“Actually, I wanted to discuss a job offer.”
“No.”
Darnell chuckled.
“I haven’t even told you what it is.”
“Still no.”
“Personal assistant, perhaps.”
“No.”
“Bodyguard.”
Dylan let out a dry, flat scoff.
“Even if she doesn’t really need one,” Darnell added.
That earned a brief, reluctant glance.
“Yeah, I noticed.
How’s she so strong?”
Darnell cleared his throat.
“Let’s just say she’s not an ordinary young woman.”
The evasive answer earned another scoff.
Darnell folded his hands together across the table, his tone shifting into something more serious.
“The point is, Yve is stubborn.
Now that she’s left home, I know she isn’t coming back anytime soon.
In only a few weeks, she has already accumulated police reports, pending charges, hospital visits, and somehow managed to involve you in all of them.”
“Yeah.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“Didn’t take it as one.”
Despite himself, a low laugh escaped Darnell.
“My concern is attention.
The more trouble she causes, the more eyes turn toward her.”
“And?”
“And I don’t want that.” Darnell leaned forward.
“So I’m offering you a job.
Keep her from attracting more attention than she already does.”
Dylan stared down into his cooling coffee.
“Been doin’ that since day one.”
“I know.” Darnell’s voice softened, losing its corporate polish.
“Which is why I’m asking you.”
Dylan didn’t answer.
“You’ll be compensated well.
Name a number.”
“No.”
“Paid leave whenever you want it.”
“No.”
Darnell sighed.
“You don’t even know the salary.”
“Ain’t about the money.”
For the first time since the conversation began, Darnell looked genuinely relieved.
That made Dylan suspicious.
“Why?”
“Because if money motivated you, I would’ve hired someone else.”
The room fell quiet.
Eventually, Dylan broke the silence.
“Why not use one of your own people?”
Darnell took another drink from his mug before looking back at him.
“One thing you should know about Yve.”
Dylan waited.
“She doesn’t usually let people get close to her.
Most don’t even get a handshake.”
Dylan thought back to every time she had casually invaded his personal space, ignoring every boundary he possessed.
Darnell read the disbelief on his face.
“Yet she follows you around.
Clings to you like she’s known you her whole life.”
A heavy groan slipped from Dylan.
“Don’t remind me.”
A genuine laugh escaped Darnell.
“But I trust her judgment.”
Dylan looked away, then cast a lingering look toward the door Yve had vanished through.
“…Still ain’t givin’ you an answer.”
Darnell smiled, unfazed.
“Mr.
Pierce, I know you’re a good human.”
Dylan raised an eyebrow, the compliment sounding entirely suspicious coming from a man who had just tranquilized both of them.
Darnell offered a faint, knowing smile.
“You want to know how your shoulder healed?”
Dylan’s hand drifted back to the spot where the blade should have left a deep mark.
“You accept the offer and stick around long enough, you’ll probably find out.” Darnell paused.
“Though I have a feeling Yve will tell you sooner or later anyway.”
Dylan frowned.
“Some kinda technology?”
A quiet chuckle escaped the older man.
“Oh, no.
Better than that.”
Before Dylan could press for details, Darnell rose from his seat and extended a hand across the table.
“Think about it.”
Reluctantly, Dylan stood as well.
Darnell kept his hand extended.
“If you decide to accept, give your answer to my secretary.
He’ll handle the details.
I don’t care what salary nor conditions you ask for.
Name it.”
After a brief internal debate, Dylan reached out and took it.
The grip was firm.
Darnell smiled.
“Thank you for keeping her safe.”
Dylan thought about Yve’s arrests, social services, the police station, the armed ambush, and getting stabbed through the shoulder.
Then he thought about Yve herself.
“…Wouldn’t call it easy.”
The smile on Darnell’s face widened.
“No.
I imagine not.”
Releasing his grip, Darnell adjusted the watch on his wrist and turned toward the exit.
“I have somewhere to be.”