The next morning arrived with little rest behind it for either of them.
When Yve reached the entrance, Adreian was already waiting beside his car with the passenger door open, but she paused with one foot inside as Dylan stepped out of the building.
He stopped dead upon seeing her, and for a long moment, neither of them moved.
Dylan stared from across the lot, his jaw tightening as he weighed whether to call out or walk over, but her hard line from the night before held him in place.
Yve met his gaze for a final beat before looking away and sliding into the seat, letting Adreian shut the door behind her.
Dylan watched the car pull away from the curb, frustration settling heavy across his face before he turned on his heel and headed back inside, the heavy front door slamming shut in his wake.
Inside the car, Yve settled against the upholstery and watched the station recede through the glass.
Adreian glanced sideways at her from behind the wheel.
“Surprised you didn’t ask Dylan to come.”
Yve kept her eyes fixed on the passing asphalt.
“He’s not gonna do anything besides sit alone there for hours anyway.”
Adreian considered the answer for a moment, offered a small nod, and returned his attention to the road.
Yve said nothing more, her fingers curling loosely in her lap as she refused to look back.
~~~
After a quick shower and change of clothes, Dylan headed over to the research building, finding the station already wide awake.
Emily and Harry were gathered around one of the primary worktables, talking over a collection of artifacts spread neatly across the surface.
Both glanced up as Dylan approached, Harry offering a brief, silent nod of acknowledgment.
Dylan returned it, stepping closer to inspect the assortment of relics without any real sense of enthusiasm.
“You interested in this kind of stuff?” Emily asked, watching him closely.
“Not really.”
His gaze wandered across the table anyway, letting the objects blur together until a carved stone vase caught his eye.
Intricate markings covered its surface, winding around the vessel in geometric patterns he couldn’t make sense of.
Emily noticed where his attention had drifted and stepped in to bridge the gap.
“That one’s from the earliest excavation layer,” she explained, her voice carrying the steady rhythm of a lecture.
“The carvings aren’t decorative in the usual sense.
They’re symbolic.
We’re still trying to determine exactly what some of them represent, but they appear to be connected to the culture that occupied the area thousands of years ago.”
Dylan offered a minimal nod, absorbing the explanation without offering much comment.
A faint, thoughtful sound escaped him as his eyes shifted toward a different display on the adjacent table.
A small painting rested beneath a heavy glass casing, protected from the ambient moisture of the surrounding environment.
Dylan leaned in closer.
“What’s that?”
Emily followed his line of sight, her expression shifting to one of quiet fascination.
“That’s our latest finding.
We pulled it out of a tubular metal casing in Owl Cave.”
Dylan studied the canvas.
It depicted a subterranean lake cradled in perpetual shadow, surrounded by strange figures gathered along the dark shore.
Some looked vaguely humanoid, while others were entirely alien in silhouette.
In the center, a cluster of figures stood together in what appeared to be some kind of ritual gathering or festival.
“That supposed to be ancient humans?” Dylan asked.
“We don’t know,” Emily said, shaking her head.
Dylan glanced over at her, noting the careful way she folded her arms as she studied the painting.
“That’s part of what makes it so interesting.
It could be an artistic representation of something the people who made it witnessed firsthand.
It could be imagery, mythology, even a metaphor.
We simply don’t have enough evidence to say for sure.”
“How old?”
“Thousands of years old.”
Dylan looked back down at the painting, noting how the pigments beneath the glass still held a striking, unnatural clarity.
“Looks pretty damn good for somethin’ that old.”
“Exactly,” Emily agreed, stepping closer to the display.
“That’s another mystery.
Whatever conditions it was stored in preserved it exceptionally well.
The metal casing probably helped seal it off, but even then, the condition is unusual.”
Dylan nodded once, his attention drifting back across the brushstrokes.
Near the edge of the painted subterranean lake, one particular figure caught his eye.
It was a man, or something built closely enough to pass for one, sitting half-submerged in the shallows with a long tail trailing behind it into the water.
Dylan’s expression tightened.
I’m a Siren.
Yve’s voice echoed through his memory, pulling him straight back to the close confines of that airplane ride.
He shook his head, exhaling a quiet breath through his nose.
Emily noticed the shift in his posture.
“Why?
You don’t like the painting?”
“Nah,” Dylan muttered, his gaze moving away from the display to sweep across the rest of the table where every artifact had been meticulously positioned, labeled, photographed, and catalogued.
After a moment, he looked back at her.
“You believe sirens exist?”
The question caught both researchers off guard.
Harry glanced up from his notes, while Emily’s lips curved into a faint, reflective smile.
“When I was a kid?
I did.”
“Now?”
“Not anymore,” she said, resting a hand lightly against the edge of the table.
“I’m a researcher.
A scientist.
I live by facts and evidence.”
Dylan nodded, his eyes returning briefly to the painting before cutting away.
Emily looked at it too, her tone dropping into a thoughtful inquiry.
“If sirens actually do exist, how come we’ve never found them?”
Dylan considered the point, recognizing the cold logic in it.
He nodded once.
“Yeah.”
His eyes lingered on the canvas for another heartbeat before he turned his back on the display.
For the next hour, Dylan stayed put.
He watched Emily and Harry work, occasionally tossing out a brief question when an artifact caught his eye, but mostly he just stood back and listened to the steady rhythm of their routine.
The two researchers kept sorting through relics, comparing notes, taking measurements, and debating technical details that held zero interest for him.
Eventually, even that low hum faded into background noise.
Dylan straightened, glanced toward the wall clock, and shoved his hands deep into his pockets before turning on his heel toward the exit.
The crisp morning air hit him the second he stepped outside; he stopped beside the building.
His eyes drifted toward the road.
He could stay.
Yve had made her position crystal clear.
She was with Adrian, and she could take care of herself.
She’d be fine.
Probably.
Dylan rubbed a heavy hand over his jaw.
Dammit.
He knew what he was doing.
For several seconds, he stood there arguing with himself.
Then he sighed.
“To hell with it.”
A few minutes later, he was throwing on his jacket and gathering the stuff he usually kept within arm’s reach.
Hand on the doorknob, he paused for one final second, staring at the gear as if waiting for a shred of common sense to kick in and tell him to drop it all back on the table.
Instead, he just shook his head.
“C’mon.”
He headed outside.
The van was parked where he’d left it.
Dylan climbed into the driver’s seat, tossed his fanny pack onto the passenger side, and started the engine.
He threw the van into gear and pulled out onto the road.
~~~
Yve had been at the site for nearly an hour, and she hadn’t accomplished much.
She had reviewed several of the newly uncovered stone markings, and offered her input whenever Adrian or the others paused to ask for it, but none of it could hold her attention.
Her mind kept drifting backward.
Back to the station.
Back to the argument.
Back to Dylan.
Frowning, she forced herself to stare at the ancient glyphs etched into the rock face in front of her.
It didn’t work.
A spike of frustration broke through her resolve, and she turned sharply toward Adreian.
“Adreian…”
He looked up from his clipboard, his expression open and attentive.
“You need anything?”
“Yes,” Yve said, folding her arms tight across her chest.
“I need a distraction.
Give me something actually difficult to solve.”
Adreian glanced around the site before touching the side of his neck.
“There’s really not much.
I mean, you didn’t even need to come today.”
Yve stared at him.
“Then what am I still doing here?”
“We still need your expertise on standby,” Adreian said with a patient, easygoing look.
“We might hit another hidden seal or unearth an unknown message that requires your translation.” He gestured vaguely toward the surrounding stone walls.
“But for the most part, you covered just about everything yesterday.” This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
Yve groaned, letting her head drop back before rolling her eyes toward the cavern ceiling.
“So there’s really nothing for me to do?”
“Not at the moment.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but Adreian cut her off gently.
“Do you want me to take you to the lake?”
Yve shook her head immediately, a bitter edge to the motion.
“Nah.
I’ll just find some other way to keep myself busy.”
“Alright,” Adreian conceded, stepping back to let her go.
Yve turned on her heel, cutting across the uneven floor of the cavern toward the spiral staircase that led upward toward the surface levels.
Her mind remained restless and high-strung.
Once she cleared the station perimeter, Yve kept walking with no specific destination in mind, banking on the notion that an hour or two on her feet might finally quiet the noise in her head.
The morning sun was still climbing above the tree line, casting pale streaks of gold across the asphalt as the road stretched out ahead of her.
She grunted under her breath, shoving her hands deep into her pockets as the forest blurred past on one side and the occasional car hummed by on the other.
Every now and then, a group of cyclists rolled down the shoulder or a couple jogged past with matching water bottles and headphones, offering nothing remarkable and demanding zero attention.
And somehow, that blank canvas was exactly what she needed.
The steady, rhythmic pounding of her boots against the ground gradually pulled her thoughts away from, easing her tension into a manageable cadence.
This is good.
She breathed out.
This is actually good.
She had caught herself early, before anything had gone too far, and before whatever weird, complicated pull she felt toward Dylan had a chance to root into something deeper.
It’s good that I caught it now.
Safe and cautious was the only way she could afford to operate.
Dylan was just a friend.
A human friend.
Maybe she had a mild crush on him, but that was just baseline biology, people developed attachments all the time, especially when someone was constantly around
He looked after her, talked to her, fed her, drove her places, and had somehow become part of her daily life.
But that didn’t mean it had to signify anything grander.
He’s familiar.
That’s all.
Then her thoughts drifted to Nierven.
Her fingers brushed against the familiar, sleeping coil wrapped around her wrist, and a faint, involuntary smile touched her lips.
She loved Nierven, who had always been there, steady and constant.
Maybe Dylan is just like Nierven.
The thought brought a small nod.
Yeah.
That makes sense.
Her steps continued along the roadside.
Maybe she was confused because Dylan was the first human who had shown her that kind of consistent kindness.
He had taken her in.
Fed her.
Bought her clothes.
Protected her.
Gotten her out of trouble more times than she cared to admit.
He never took advantage of her nor asked for anything in return.
He had been there when she needed someone.
Isn’t that what fathers do?
A crease formed between Yve’s brows.
She had been practically a child when she first reached the surface.
She knew nothing about the human world.
She didn’t understand their customs, their technology, their cities, their money, or even half the things people expected her to know.
Of course she had latched onto the first human who treated her with basic decency, and by pure chance, that human happened to be Dylan.
That’s all it is.
Her mind scrambled for something concrete to anchor the theory.
Then she remembered a stray piece of trivia she had picked up years ago regarding ducks and imprinting, where young animals attached themselves to the first moving creature they encountered and mapped safety onto its presence.
Yve nodded to herself.
Exactly.
That was probably what had happened.
It’s like how ducks imprint on the first mammal they see.
She glanced toward the passing traffic.
“Ducks,” she muttered.
Even if the comparison sounded completely ridiculous out loud, it held enough water to quiet the persistent questions rattling around inside her head.
Dylan was familiar.
Dylan was safe.
Dylan had been there first.
That has to be it.
Yve continued walking beneath the rising sun, outwardly satisfied with her airtight psychological deduction.
Just then, her phone buzzed.
She reached into her pocket, pulled it out, and stared at the screen where Dylan’s face stared back at her.
She had snapped that picture when he wasn’t looking, intending to set it as his contact photo whenever he called.
For some reason, she had wanted his picture there.
Why?
Yve frowned, her mind immediately scrambling for a rational explanation before landing on a convenient excuse.
I can’t read the human writing system.
She nodded to herself.
Yes.
That’s right.
Nothing more to it.
The call dropped before she could answer.
Yve was about to slip the phone back into her pocket when it rang again.
This time, she swiped to answer.
“Where are ya?”
Dylan’s voice came through the speaker, rough and familiar enough that something in her chest tightened before she could clamp down on it.
“Just…”
“Come out.
I bought food.”
Yve let out a heavy breath.
There it was again.
That exact same uncomfortable pull she had spent the entire morning trying to logic away.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Fine…”
A lingering pause followed.
She kept walking, listening to the faint, steady sound of Dylan breathing on the other end of the line.
“I’ll leave the food here,” he added.
Before Yve could answer, the call ended.
She lowered the phone, staring at the dark screen as that strange, dull ache settled into her chest.
And she hated it.
Her fingers tightened around the phone.
No.
She forced herself to keep walking.
Maybe this was better.
Maybe this was exactly what she needed.
Distance.
Space.
A little separation before she allowed herself to become too attached.
This is better.
Her gaze drifted toward the road ahead.
Dylan was human.
A short-lived, fragile human belonging to a species that could be shattered by things Yve barely had to think twice about, whose entire life could extinguish from one wrong turn, one stray accident, one careless mistake.
Like something the abyss could swallow without a trace.
The thought made her chest contract again, sharper this time.
She shook her head.
No.
This was better.
She was being careful.
She was protecting herself before her feelings became something she couldn’t control.
It’s better than that.
Yve continued down the road, occasionally letting out another heavy sigh.
~~~
Dylan dropped the call with a heavy grunt, letting his palm slap against the steering wheel.
“Dammit.
Dragging a hand down his face, he stared blankly through the windshield for a beat before pushing the van door open.
He handed the bag of takeout to one of the nearby crew members with a mumbled word, climbed back behind the wheel, and turned the ignition.
As he pulled away from the station, his mind tracked right back to the sharp rejection in her tone.
What the hell was going on with her?
She had been different since last night, acting distant and short with him as if an invisible wall had materialized out of thin air.
Had he done something?
Maybe he’d pushed her too hard about the hospital incident.
Was that it?
Dylan scoffed.
What’d I do?
She’s the one who knocked me out.
If anything, he oughta be the one pissed off.
Yet somehow, he was the one trying to figure out what he’d done wrong. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
“Women,” he muttered, pressing his foot a little harder against the accelerator.
“Can’t understand ’em.
Ever.”
Getting drafted into missions had been easier than this.
At least there, the enemy wore a visible face and the objectives were clear-cut.
This?
This made zero damn sense.
Why’s she givin’ me the cold shoulder?
He didn’t have an answer, and the blank space bothered him more than he cared to admit.
His thoughts drifted despite his best efforts.
Had she even eaten anything?
She’d left early that morning and headed straight for the site.
With how busy the research was, he doubted anyone had bothered to make sure she’d eaten anything.
The nearest restaurant was twenty minutes away.
Dylan sighed through his nose.
“Stubborn as hell.”
He kept driving, letting the miles roll beneath the tires until a motorcycle tore past his window, engine roaring as it swerved aggressively into the lane ahead.
“What the hell…”
His eyes tracked the bike for a fraction of a second, catching the exact moment the rider leaned over and snatched a phone straight out of the hands of a woman walking along the roadside.
The pedestrian stumbled, hitting the concrete hard and catching herself awkwardly on one elbow.
Dylan rode past her, but something about the familiar build of the woman caught his eye.
He checked his side mirror.
His stomach dropped out.
“Yve?”
His foot slammed onto the brake, the van skidding hard against the gravel shoulder before it even came to a full stop.
Dylan was out the door before the engine had finished ticking over.
Across the asphalt, Yve was already pushing herself upright, frustration stamped into every line of her face.
She had been caught completely off guard, and a raw scrape darkened the skin along her elbow.
For once, though, she didn’t look ready to sprint after the fleeing thief.
She looked exhausted, lacking even the basic energy to fight back.
Dylan’s jaw tightened into a hard line as he jogged across the dividing lanes toward her.
Whatever frustration had been chewing at him a minute ago vanished into thin air.
“Yve.”
Yve looked up, her gaze locking onto Dylan the second he crossed the space between them.
Her eyes traced the hard line of his jaw and the worry etched into his features before catching the underlying irritation that always seemed to follow him around.
“The fuck ya doin’ out here?” he asked, his voice rough.
Yve said nothing, turning her face away as a fresh wave of stubborn pride rose in her chest.
Dylan’s chest tightened.
He closed the remaining distance, his eyes sweeping over her from head to toe in search of any real damage before locking onto her elbow.
A raw scrape marred the skin, nothing life-threatening, but enough to twist his mouth into a grim line.
“Come on,” he muttered, reaching out to take her arm.
“Let’s get that fixed.”
Yve immediately batted his hand away.
“No thanks.
It’s just a scrape.
Won’t kill me.”
She spun on her heel and started walking down the shoulder of the road.
Dylan stared after her for half a second before falling into step beside her.
“Where are ya goin’?”
She kept walking, ignoring him completely.
“You gonna walk all the way back?”
Still nothing.
Dylan caught up, reaching out to grip her arm again.
Yve jerked away, shoving his hands aside with a sharp glare.
“Stop following me.
I wanna be alone.”
His jaw hardened.
“It’s dangerous out here.
Get inside.”
A dry scoff escaped her as she picked up her pace.
“Yve.”
Nothing.
“Yve.”
She kept going, her boots pounding against the gravel.
That was enough.
Dylan closed the gap, wrapped an arm firmly around her waist, and hoisted her clean off the ground before she could react.
Yve let out a startled squeal.
“What the hell?!”
Before she could thrash her way out of his grip, he swung her up and over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
“Dylan!”
He marched straight toward the van with her dangling over his back.
Yve twisted against his hold, pounding her fists uselessly against his back.
“Put me down!”
“No.”
“Put me down!”
“Ain’t happenin’.”
Frustrated beyond reason, she grabbed a thick fistful of his hair and yanked hard.
Dylan groaned, his stride stuttering.
“Ow.
Damn it.” He adjusted his grip.
Yve reached down and pinched his side, but Dylan barely reacted, marching on as if he were made of stone.
She stared at him in sheer disbelief.
“This is ridiculous.” She squirmed harder.
Dylan tightened his hold.
She considered flipping herself right over his shoulder and sending him sprawling.
Then remembered exactly how strong she was.
One wrong movement and she could seriously hurt him.
Grumbling curses under her breath, she went limp and stopped fighting.
Dylan reached the van, pulled the passenger door open, and lowered her onto the seat with surprising care to make sure she landed safely.
Yve sat on the edge of the passenger seat, facing Dylan through the open door, her legs dangling outside the van.
She glared daggers at him, her brow pulled into a deep, furious crease.
She had several things she wanted to say.
Most of them probably shouldn’t be said aloud.
Dylan leaned his forearms against the door frame and looked down at her, the corner of his mouth twitched.
Despite everything, he looked amused.
“You done?”
Yve glared harder.
Reaching out, Dylan gave her hair a casual, aggravating ruffle.
“Crazy woman.”
That did it.
Yve lunged forward, catching his wrist in a tight grip.
She leaned in and clamped her teeth down onto his forearm.
All the accumulated tension from the previous night, the restless thoughts, the argument, the fear, and the sheer humiliation of getting knocked flat on the asphalt boiled over all at once.
Dylan froze, his eyes dropping toward her with a sharp breath.
Her teeth were pressed against his skin, not biting with enough force to draw blood, but leaving a very clear, stinging mark.
Dylan winced, his voice tight.
“Jesus.”
Yve released him.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Dylan looked at the faint teeth marks on his wrist.
Then at her.
She stared right back, her expression stubborn and unapologetic.
Dylan let out a slow breath, shaking his head as he kept his arm right where it was.
“That make ya feel better?”
Yve kept her chin tilted up.
A little.
The corner of Dylan’s mouth twitched.
Yve didn’t budge.
She kept glaring at him, arms folded tightly across her chest to make it explicitly clear she had zero intention of cooperating.
Dylan waited for a beat, watching her lock down her defenses.
When it became obvious that she wasn’t going to budge on her own, he let out a short sigh and scooped her legs up.
Yve’s eyes widened briefly as he tucked her feet neatly inside the cab.
She immediately crossed her arms even tighter, a warning hiss trapped in the back of her throat.
Ignoring the glare entirely, Dylan leaned across her space to pull the seatbelt over her shoulder.
The buckle clicked securely into place.
Without another word, he shut the passenger door and rounded the front of the van.
Through the windshield, Yve watched him approach, her chin lifting in stubborn defiance.
The second he opened the driver’s door and climbed inside, she snapped her eyes shut and turned her head firmly toward the side window.
Dylan glanced sideways at her rigid posture, then turned his attention back to the asphalt.
He cleared his throat before starting the engine.
A moment later, the van pulled away from the roadside, carrying them back down the highway.