They had barely started toward the exit when a loud clatter came from one of the aisles.
An employee was rearranging boxes on a ladder when one of them slipped from the shelf, tipping directly toward a young boy standing below.
Yve reacted before anyone else could.
She rushed forward, vaulted over the nearby counter, and threw herself over the child just as the box came crashing down.
The impact sent cans spilling across the floor, several of them bouncing off Yve before rolling beneath the surrounding shelves.
The store erupted in screams.
The boy’s parents rushed toward him while Dylan came running from the checkout area.
“Yve!”
She pushed herself upright and looked down at the boy beneath her.
He was unharmed.
Yve, meanwhile, had barely reacted to the box at all.
His parents pulled him into their arms before turning their attention toward the employee on the ladder.
“What the hell were you doing?!”
“You could’ve killed him!”
The employee kept apologizing, but the parents were already shouting over him, drawing the attention of everyone nearby.
Dylan reached Yve and pulled her away from the commotion.
“What the hell were you thinking?” He looked her over, checking her arms, shoulders, and forehead for blood or any sign that she’d been hurt.
Yve patiently let him inspect her before finally shaking her head.
“I’m fine, Dylan.”
Dylan stared at her, clearly fighting the urge to argue.
Behind them, the shouting continued as store employees tried to calm the parents and deal with the mess.
“Come on,” he muttered.
He guided Yve toward the exit, slipping away from the chaos before either of them could get dragged into it.
Just before they stepped outside, Yve glanced back.
The little boy was standing safely beside his parents.
When he saw her, his face lit up and he waved excitedly.
Yve smiled and raised one finger to her lips.
“Shhh.”
The boy immediately understood.
He nodded, still smiling.
For just a moment, Yve’s eyes caught the light with a faint predatory glow.
The boy’s expression changed as he remembered what he’d seen when she shielded him, but Yve simply gave him a small smile before turning away.
~~~
Dylan had barely finished loading the groceries into the trunk when something caught his attention at the corner of his eye.
He glanced toward the road, but whatever had caught his attention was already gone.
Figuring it was nothing, he got into the driver’s seat and pulled away.
A few minutes into the drive, he changed lanes.
The white car behind them changed lanes too.
Dylan made an unnecessary turn, then another.
The white car stayed with them.
Yve sat in the passenger seat, happily munching on a bag of chips while Dylan continued driving.
He took a longer route, checking the mirrors between turns before finally waiting for a clear stretch of road and making a sharp U-turn.
The white car followed.
Dylan accelerated.
So did the car behind them.
Yve glanced over.
“Are we going back?”
Dylan didn’t answer.
He kept his eyes on the mirrors, changing lanes and taking turns that had nothing to do with their destination.
Yve watched him for a while, first studying Dylan, then following his gaze toward the white car that refused to fall behind.
Dylan’s hands tightened around the steering wheel.
“Stay put,” he said.
Yve looked at him.
Then she looked back at the car.
She had seen that expression before.
Not on a human, but on people who knew they were being hunted.
Yve set the chips aside as she glanced around the car, searching for something.
Her eyes landed on a bottle of water tucked beside the cup holder.
She picked it up and rolled down the window.
Before Dylan could ask what she was doing, Yve leaned out, using her body to block his view of the side mirror and the angle behind her.
“Yve?”
“Just drive.”
Dylan frowned but kept his eyes on the road.
Yve uncapped the bottle and poured the water into her cupped hands.
The wind immediately scattered some of it, but she kept gathering what she could as the car continued moving.
Dylan caught a glimpse of her through the corner of his eye, but before he could turn to look, something formed between her hands.
Her sword.
Yve drew her arm back and released it.
The blade shot through the air, cutting through the wind before striking the wheel of the white car behind them.
The vehicle swerved before coming to a stop.
Yve watched it for a moment as the sword dissolved into water and disappeared beneath the moving car.
Then she pulled herself back inside, rolled up the window, and settled into her seat as if nothing had happened.
Dylan checked the rearview mirror.
The white car was no longer moving.
“What the hell…”He looked at Yve.
She said nothing.
Instead, she took another drink from the bottle, picked up her chips, and continued eating.
~~~
Back at the apartment, Dylan carried the groceries inside while Yve took her personal things to her room.
He set the bags of food on the kitchen table and watched her go inside the spare bedroom with an armful of clothes and toiletries.
His eyes lingered on her for a moment.
Then he turned away.
Dylan went into his bedroom and shut the door behind him.
He crossed to the far wall, entered a concealed code, and opened the hidden compartment.
A narrow doorway revealed a small room packed tightly with equipment.
Firearms were secured along one wall, ammunition stored beneath them, while various communications devices, surveillance equipment, and other pieces of field gear occupied the remaining shelves.
Dylan stepped inside and activated the monitor.
A private system came online.
He pulled up the traffic information he’d managed to remember and entered the license plate number of the white car.
The system searched and Dylan waited.
Then a record appeared.
The vehicle was registered to a private corporation he didn’t recognize.
He went through the company information, checking the names and affiliations, but nothing stood out.
He had never dealt with them, never worked with them, and had no known connection to anyone associated with the company.
He then stepped out of his bedroom, crossing the living room to pause outside her closed door before tapping his knuckles against the wood.
“Come in.”
Pushing the door open, he found Yve sitting cross-legged on the bed amid scattered piles of clothes, shoes, and the various supplies he had bought for her earlier.
She was entirely absorbed in sorting the items, pausing every now and then to inspect something before adding it to a neat stack.
Her face brightened the moment she spotted him.
“I like this garment,” she said, holding up a shirt before looking down at it again.
“Humans make surprisingly comfortable clothing.”
Dylan leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, watching her for a beat.
“Ya ever heard of a company called DUV Corporation?”
Yve looked up from the shirt and shook her head.
“Nope.
Why?
What’s that?”
Dylan’s voice stayed even.
“Be honest with me.”
Lowering the shirt into her lap, she met his gaze without hesitation.
“I am being honest.”
Dylan rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a measured breath.
“Where’d ya come from?”
“I already told you that.”
“No.
Ya told me where ya live.” Pushing himself off the doorframe, he shifted his weight.
“Look, I don’t know what it is you’re hidin’, or who you’re runnin’ from, but if there’s trouble, you gotta tell me.”
Yve frowned slightly.
Folding his arms across his chest, Dylan held her gaze.
“Cause somehow you’re my responsibility now.”
For a moment, she simply stared at him, then climbed off the bed and closed the distance, stopping a few feet away with her hands on her waist.
“You don’t have to be responsible for me, though.
I can take care of myself just fine.” She hesitated, searching for the right words.
“I just really…
I don’t know how to explain this in a way that’ll make sense to you, but…”
The doorbell rang.
Both of them froze.
Yve glanced sharply toward the hallway, while Dylan immediately raised a finger to his lips.
“Shh.”
The playful edge vanished from his features, replaced by a sharper alertness.
Keeping his eyes fixed on the door, he stepped toward a nearby table and slid open a concealed compartment tucked beneath the surface.
Yve watched as he reached inside and pulled out a handgun, her eyes widening at the sight.
After a swift, practiced check of the weapon, he gestured sharply for her to stay silent.
“Don’t make a sound.”
Another ring echoed through the quiet apartment.
Gun in hand, Dylan slipped into the hallway and moved toward the front door with cautious, deliberate steps.
He peered through the peephole and immediately recognized the woman standing outside.
Lara.
Dylan lowered the gun and slipped it behind his back.
Then he unlocked the deadbolt, and pulled the door open.
Lara stood in the corridor, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
“Is…
is Yve there?”
Dylan offered a simple nod, but before he could speak, a familiar voice rang out from down the hall.
“You came back!”
Yve appeared almost immediately, hurrying toward the threshold with a breathless repetition.
“You came back…
you came back…
you came back!”
Instinctively, Lara took a step backward as Yve approached.
For a brief moment, silence stretched between them.
Dylan noticed the sharp shift in the air but kept his observations to himself, watching the exchange from the doorway.
Lara drew in a steady breath and finally looked directly at Yve.
“Can we talk?”
Tucking her hands against herself, Yve gave a small, hesitant nod.
“Yeah…
sure.”
“Uh…
somewhere private?”
Glancing toward Dylan for a second before turning back to Lara, Yve stepped back inside.
“I’ll be back.”
She vanished into the apartment for a moment, returning with Dylan’s oversized boots.
Dropping onto a nearby chair, she quickly tightened the laces the exact same way she had watched him do earlier.
Once she was satisfied with the fit, she stood up and walked back out to the hallway.
“Alright.”
Lara nodded and turned to leave.
Yve followed her, leaving Dylan standing in the doorway as the two women disappeared down the corridor.
~~~
Walking in silence, Lara led the way toward a nearby park as the morning air settled around them.
When they reached the edge of the pond, she wandered close to the water and scattered a handful of breadcrumbs for the ducks clustering near the shore, while Yve lingered a short distance back, waiting quietly for whatever had brought her here.
Once the last of the crumbs fell from her palms, Lara straightened and turned.
“Do you eat humans?”
The question struck harder than expected, stinging with a sudden, sharp weight, though the source of the fear was obvious.
After everything Lara had witnessed, the doubt made sense, even if it hurt.
Yve shook her head.
“No.”
Lara exhaled, looking back toward the pond.
“What about sailors?
Do you lure them out at sea?
Manipulate them and kill them?”
Biting her lip, Yve clenched her fists as old stereotypes and whispered fears rose up around her.
Part of her wanted to push back, to defend what she was, but the raw honesty of the moment won out.
“No.
Never.”
“I was really scared when I saw your hands change,” Lara said, swallowing hard before meeting her eyes.
“To be honest, Yve, it was horrible.
Disgusting, even.”
The words landed with a dull thud.
Almost instinctively, Yve tucked her hands beneath the fabric of the oversized shirt, hiding them away.
Wiping a stray moisture from the corner of her eye, Lara fell silent for a moment before letting out a soft, dry laugh.
“It’s ironic, isn’t it?
You’re clearly not human.
You look like one, but…” She struggled to find the words.
“God, Yve.
Those hands of yours looked like something straight out of a nightmare.” A tear finally broke free down her cheek.
“I’m sorry.”
Yve remained quiet.
“You may not be human, but you’ve shown me more humanity than most of the people I’ve met,” Lara continued, glancing down at the rippling water.
“Yeah, I was afraid last night.
But after I left, after I spent hours out here by myself, I realized I was more afraid of the people around me than I was of you.”
Before the thought could finish, Yve stepped forward and closed the distance, wrapping her arms around her.
“I understand.
It’s alright.
You’re my friend.
Friends compromise and forgive each other’s shortcomings.”
A shaky laugh escaped Lara as she returned the embrace.
“After how I reacted, you still want me as a friend?”
Pulling back just enough to look her in the eye, Yve offered a reassuring expression.
“Of course.
Trust me when I say I’ve experienced much worse than this.
You hurt my feelings, yes, but that’s okay.
I’m an adult.
I can manage my feelings.”
Lara hugged her tighter.
“Everything about you makes sense now.”
From there, conversation flowed with an easy rhythm.
They settled onto a nearby wooden bench, losing track of time as the sun climbed higher into the sky.
Stories unfolded naturally, with Yve describing her home, her people, and the hidden world beneath the waves, while Lara listened with total fascination, hanging onto every detail.
She could not entirely verify whether Reefville existed, or if sirens were truly what her companion claimed.
None of it aligned with conventional reality.
Yet sitting there, the plausibility mattered less and less.
She only knew one thing.
If given the choice, she’d rather place her trust in a Siren than in many of the humans she’d met throughout her life.
~~~
Midday hunger interrupted their conversation when a sharp growl echoed from Lara’s stomach.
Yve turned toward her immediately.
“Let’s go back to Dylan’s home.
You and me.”
Lara laughed, nodding in agreement.
“Yeah.
Food sounds nice right about now.”
The walk back through the city carried an easy rhythm, mostly filled with Yve recounting every bizarre surface-world discovery she had made over the last few days.
Lara listened with fond amusement, stepping in every now and then to correct a misunderstanding about how human customs worked.
By the time they reached Dylan’s apartment building, both of them were laughing.
Then two black SUVs cut across the lane, pulling up to the entrance with a sharp, aggressive halt that made both women freeze in their tracks.
Yve frowned, her attention snapping toward the vehicles.
Before she could process the movement, several figures poured out from the vehicles.
A sudden, sharp prick bit into her arm.
Looking down, she spotted a small dart protruding from the fabric of her sleeve.
Another struck her neck, followed instantly by a third in her thigh.
A few feet away, Lara was already staggering, several identical darts embedded in her jacket.
The world tilted violently.
Yve tried to force her limbs forward, but her muscles refused to obey as her knees buckled beneath her.
The pavement rushed up to meet her, the entrance of the building blurring into streaks of grey and steel while the sounds around her collapsed into a distant hum.
Lara crumpled to the pavement first.
Reaching out instinctively toward her friend, Yve fought the heavy fog closing in around her, but within seconds, the darkness swallowed her whole.
Men in tactical gear moved with practiced efficiency, scooping up the unconscious women and loading them back into the SUVs.
Doors slammed shut in rapid succession, and the vehicles pulled away from the curb, merging into traffic as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
From across the lobby entrance, a resident who had witnessed the entire abduction stood frozen in terror.
The moment the tail lights vanished into the street, she scrambled inside, nearly tripping over her own feet as she raced toward the elevators and fumbled frantically with the buttons.
Pounding on his door hard enough to rattle the frame, the elderly resident panted for air the moment the deadbolt clicked.
Dylan pulled the door open, his hand dropping away from the concealed firearm at his waist when he recognized her voice.
“What?”
Bending over with her hands on her knees, she struggled to speak.
“That woman you’re with…
I saw her downstairs…”
Dylan frowned, his posture instantly stiffening.
“Yve?”
“They took her.” The woman pressed a trembling hand to her chest.
“Men grabbed her and forced her into a couple of black SUVs.
They just drove off.”
For a fraction of a second, he simply stared at her.
Then he was moving.
Rushing to the window, he scanned the empty stretch of street below, finding nothing.
No vehicles.
No trace of an incident.
Dylan said nothing as he reached for his phone.
Turning on his heel, he stormed down the hall and shoved open the concealed wall panel leading to his hidden room.
Monitors flickered to life as he dialed a number.
The moment the line connected, he cut straight to the point.
“Need footage.”
A pause on the other end.
“Front’a my building,” Dylan commanded, his eyes already tracking the loading progress on his screens.
“Five, ten minutes back.
Two black SUVs.”
Another beat of silence.
“Get the plates.”
He ended the call before the man could reply.
The security terminal finished booting up, and he flickered through camera feeds until the lobby camera popped into view.
Yve and Lara appeared on screen, walking side by side toward the front entrance.
Dylan leaned closer to the monitor.
A heartbeat later, the attack struck.
Dylan leaned closer, cursing under his breath as the graininess of the resolution worked against him.
The kidnappers were little more than indistinct silhouettes, and the leading SUV had parked at a calculated angle to shield the rear.
He watched helplessly as Yve went down under the volley of tranquilizer darts.
His fist slammed hard against the metal desktop, the impact rattling the monitors.
“Fuck!”
The phone buzzed in his hand seconds later.
He answered instantly.
The faint clatter of a keyboard echoed through the receiver.
A moment later, the response came through.
“Think I got ’em.”
“Stay on ’em.” Already moving, Dylan swept past the desk and began pulling open reinforced storage compartments inside the hidden room.
“Feed me updates.”
He hung up, sliding a tactical earpiece into place to sync with his phone.
Handguns vanished into concealed holsters, spare magazines were secured, and heavier gear was strapped down without a wasted motion.
By the time he snatched up the keys to his motorcycle, every trace of surprise had evaporated from his features, leaving only a cold, methodical focus.
Minutes later, the heavy roar of his motorcycle engine tore through the apartment complex as Dylan rocketed onto the pavement, weaving through traffic with practiced precision.
Dylan scanned the mirrors, intersections, and side streets as he pushed through traffic, cataloging each vehicle around him.
The tactical earpiece crackled to life.
Highway 101.
Headin’ south.”
“How far?”
“Ten minutes.
Maybe less.”
Dylan twisted the throttle.
Traffic thickened ahead as a delivery truck drifted into his lane, forcing him to bank hard around it.
A horn blared in his wake, ignored instantly.
A few tense seconds passed before the voice returned.
“Lost visual.
Hold on.”
Dylan leaned harder into the handlebars.
“You lose ’em?”
“Nah.
Picked ’em up on another feed.” A flurry of keyboard clicks tapped through the line.
“They’re still movin’.”
The motorcycle surged through a shifting light just as it turned red.
“Just passed the intersection by Watson’s Market.”
Slicing past a slow-moving SUV, Dylan checked the gap.
“Distance.”
“‘Bout seven minutes now.”
The wind howled against his helmet as the machine accelerated.
The static on the line hummed briefly before his contact spoke up again.
“Hold up…” More clicking.
“Camera caught ’em pulling through the gas station on Bayshore.”
Dylan immediately cut across two lanes.
“Five minutes.”
“Pushin’ it.”
The urban sprawl began to thin out, concrete giving way to long stretches of dense timberland.
“Lost ’em again.”
Dylan didn’t waste breath on a reply, leaving his contact to work the feeds.
A moment later, the earpiece clicked.
“Found ’em.
County traffic cam.
They’re cutting inland.”
“Which way?”
“Hang on…” Rapid typing rattled the connection.
“There.
Stay on this road another mile.
Take the next right.”
Dylan flattened lower over the tank.
“Take that road,” his contact urged, tracking the live trajectory.
“Good chance you’ll catch ’em.”
The black SUV finally appeared ahead, winding along the coastal road as the timber thicket closed in on both sides.
Beyond the cliffside drop, the ocean shimmered under the afternoon light, but the dense trees overhead cast long, shadowed stretches across the asphalt.
“There.”
Dylan twisted the throttle, the motorcycle surging forward with a rising snarl.
The kidnappers never heard him coming.
Yanking his pistol from its holster, he fired twice.
The first bullet chewed into the pavement, but the second found its mark, shredding the rear tire.
The SUV fishtailed violently across the road before skidding to a halt amid a billow of white smoke and dust.
Inside the cabin, the men scrambled.
“There’s another one.”
“You think it’s a siren?”
The driver shoved his door open, boots hitting the dirt.
“Who cares?
Take him alive.
Boss can deal with him too.”
Dylan was already bailing off the bike.
The machine skidded across the road as he hit the ground and opened fire.
One of the gunmen dropped instantly, howling as he clutched a shattered knee, while the rest scrambled for shelter behind the disabled vehicle.
The quiet coastal stretch erupted into the sharp crack of gunfire.
The kidnappers had anticipated a terrified civilian.
Instead, they were facing a trained operator.
Moving with cold, methodical efficiency, Dylan closed the distance, using the frame of the SUV for cover as rounds sparked off the metal.
Every action served a purpose, wasting neither breath nor ammunition.
A thug lunged out with a rush, only to be slammed back against the door panel with enough force to cave the metal inward.
Another tried to close the gap with a baton, hitting the dirt seconds later.
The numerical advantage dissolved into chaos.
“Son of a bitch!”
“Drop him!”
Nobody was listening anymore.
Within minutes, half the crew was either writhing on the roadside or unconscious, while Dylan remained standing.
Barely.
A blade flashed, burying itself deep into his shoulder.
Pain flared white-hot down his arm, but it merely stoked a darker, harder focus.
The attacker managed a single triumphant grin before Dylan drove him shoulder-first into the SUV, dropping him into a heap beside the tires.
Blood soaked rapidly through Dylan’s sleeve, running warm down his forearm to drip from his fingertips, yet he barely registered the injury.
Uncertainty rippled through the survivors.
This was not how the extraction was supposed to go.
One of them fumbled frantically beneath his jacket.
“Use it!” The shout carried a sharp edge of desperation.
A gas grenade detonated at his feet, filling the air with a thick, choking haze.
Through the white smoke, the surviving kidnappers snapped gas masks over their faces, instantly seizing the tactical upper hand as Dylan was forced to blink against the burning sting.
That single window was all they needed.
A sharp bite broke against his neck.
Moving purely on instinct, Dylan grabbed the wrist of his assailant and hurled the man hard into the roadside dirt, ripping the protruding syringe free in one fluid motion.
The attacker crashed down and lay still, but the drug was already working.
The heavy pistol in his hand felt instantly wrong, its weight multiplying tenfold as his vision blurred at the margins.
The road ahead seemed to stretch away into an impossible distance.
Forcing his legs forward, he took one step, then another, but the gap refused to close.
The asphalt smeared into a gray haze.
His fingers lost their strength.
As one of the men finally lunged in to finish it, Dylan tried to raise his guard, but his nervous system refused the command.
A brutal blow struck the back of his head.
Another followed immediately.
Then the light vanished, and everything went black.
~~~
“Here’s the background check you requested.”
Accepting the tablet without looking up, the man let another attendant step forward to carefully drape a plush robe over his shoulders.
A comprehensive profile illuminated the glass screen.
| Dylan Pierce.
Age 31.
|
Adjusting his glasses, the secretary continued smoothly.
“Former U.S.
Army Staff Sergeant.
Served with Delta Force.”
The man swiped through the digital files, pausing as a family photograph materialized first.
Childhood pictures followed, capturing hunting trips, early firearms training, and military ceremonies.
Nearly every frame painted the portrait of a life built on discipline.
“He was raised in a military household,” the secretary noted.
“His father served for decades.
Pierce received firearms, survival, and fieldcraft training long before he ever enlisted.”
Another swipe brought up military records, though most of the deployment logs were heavily redacted.
“Enlisted at eighteen, distinguished himself early, and eventually transitioned into special operations.”
The man’s thumb lingered over a page choked with black censor bars.
“Classified?”
“Most of it.”
A final swipe revealed a stark photograph of Dylan taken during his active service years.
“Callsign: Bloodhound.”
The man’s brow arched slightly.
“Bloodhound?”
“According to personnel records, once assigned an objective, he had a reputation for seeing it through.
His teammates considered him unusually persistent.”
Silence settled over the poolside patio as the man continued reading through mission summaries, commendations, and a web of further redactions.
“His final deployment came at twenty-nine.
Details remain restricted.”
“And now?”
“After leaving active service, he moved into executive protection.
He’s currently assigned to the Chief Operations Director.”
Finally looking away from the screen, the man stared out across the water.
“What civilization is he from?”
“Human, sir.”
Returning his gaze to Dylan’s photograph, the man offered a quiet acknowledgment.
“Interesting.”
He set the tablet down on a low table beside the pool and reached for a chilled glass prepared earlier.
Taking a measured sip, he settled back into his chair.
“Is Yve awake?”
The secretary glanced toward one of the security personnel stationed at the edge of the patio.
The guard touched the concealed earpiece beneath his collar.
“Status on Ms.
Yve?”
A brief pause stretched across the line while he listened, followed by a quiet shake of his head.
“Not yet.”
The man nodded, rising from his chair to adjust the robe.
“Inform me the moment she wakes up.
And bring Dylan Pierce to my office.”
“Yes, sir.”
The secretary immediately relayed the order through his earpiece as the man turned away from the pool, disappearing into the interior of the estate without another word.