Gabriel had been our prisoner for a week, and we’d slipped into an uneasy routine. I was mostly the one who uncuffed him for the essentials like his bathroom breaks, food, and showers. I’d even taken the liberty of procuring him toiletries and some clothes since he wasn’t really prepared for this little adventure.

  He didn’t complain once, just watched me with those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see—and know—it all. Something was unsettling in the way he seemed to look at me as if he knew how this would end.

  And then there was the silence in the criminal underworld—not even a whisper of Gabriel’s disappearance, which made me restless. That quiet made my skin itch and made me feel as if we were approaching doom. Whose exactly, remained to be seen.

  We still had another two weeks before we’d reach Albania, and I was bored out of my mind. Elira was too, but she entertained herself by flirting with the crew.

  Pushing the cabin door open, I paused, heartbeat stuttering. Gabriel lay sprawled across the narrow bed—handcuffed, restrained—and yet somehow managing to look like he’d booked himself a luxury cruise.

  “I brought you some food and coffee,” I said, the words sticking slightly in my throat as I glanced down at the tray in my hands. “And more movies.”

  He turned his head lazily toward me, lids half-lowered, like a jungle cat watching from the underbrush.

  “Room service by my beautiful jailor. How decadent,” he purred. The smile touched his lips but not his eyes—those remained razor-sharp. “I must’ve done something right to deserve this kind of luck.”

  His gaze was steady, tracking every twitch of my body like he could see straight through to the places I tried to hide.

  “Not to worry.” He gave a casual tug against the cuffs. “Still shackled.”

  I offered a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Good thing. I’d hate to have to kill you before we even reach our destination.”

  His grin shifted—less charm, more teeth. “How you wound me, Amara! I thought you were joining me for a date with movies, music, and food, not threats.”

  A sigh left my lips. “Always a charmer.”

  “Only when it comes to you.” His voice dropped, low and rough.

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re still trying to flirt your way out of every situation, I see.”

  “Hey,” he said, stretching as much as the cuffs would allow. “I take what small pleasures I can around you.”

  I stepped farther into the room, closing the space warily.

  “You forget, those things don’t really work on me.” I set the tray down on the bedside table with a small clatter. “Besides, nothing can disguise the ruthless and calculating man underneath it all. Not even your hot, muscular body.”

  He didn’t move, not even a blink, but the muscle in his jaw flexed once, betraying the tension he tried to mask. The stubble there was darker now, giving him a worn-in edge he hadn’t had when we first met.

  “Gosh, preciosa, I don’t know if I can take so many compliments at once.”

  “Somehow I feel you’d fish for even more if you could,” I scoffed. “You feed off them, Santos.”

  He didn’t answer, and beneath the silence, something simmered. It was a tether too frayed to name but too thick to break.

  “I’d feed off your moans and your body too, but you’re not offering that, are you?” he retorted. “Why don’t we make a deal? My body for yours. Your information for mine.”

  I snorted. “Let’s get one thing straight. I’m never making that trade, and you’ll have to pry information from my cold, dead body.”

  He chuckled, then murmured, “At least tell me, why kidnap me? Where are we headed?”

  Instead of answering, I reached into my pocket, pulled out the key, and walked over to his side.

  “Don’t do anything stupid,” I warned, sliding the key toward the cuffs. “You know I won’t hesitate.”

  “Oh, I know,” he purred, looking between me and the bedframe he was tied to. “You’re as dangerous as you are beautiful, but I’ve given you no cause to defend yourself or hurt me since you kidnapped me. Have I?”

  I ran a finger along the metal, letting it hover over the cold steel before unlocking it, then leaned away as they clicked open. “No, you haven’t.”

  “You can trust me, you know. I’d never hurt you,” he murmured slowly, taking a deep breath into his lungs. “Just tell me what you and your siblings have gotten yourself into and I’ll do everything in my power to help you.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “All three of us?”

  A flicker of tension passed through him. He masked it immediately, but not before I saw it in the faintest tightening of his shoulders.

  “You’re my primary concern,” he finally said, leaning forward. “You’ve been the highlight of my days long before you kidnapped me.”

  It was my turn to tense. “Don’t try flattery to get your way, Santos, or I’ll cuff you again.”

  The corners of his lips tilted up. “If that’s what you want. Hell, I’d even let you spoon-feed me.”

  “I’m not spoon-feeding you.”

  “Afraid I’ll bite?”

  “I know you will,” I muttered.

  He flexed his wrists and rubbed at the red marks there, his eyes never leaving mine. Heat crawled up my spine. I shifted my weight and rested a hand on the butt of my gun, grounding myself in the comfort of cold steel.

  “Eat,” I said, sharper than I meant. “I don’t have time to babysit you all day.”

  “I thought we’d share a meal, listen to romantic songs, and then finish the day with a cliché movie. It’ll be like a real date.”

  “I don’t think so.” Dammit, why did my voice sound like I actually wanted to do those things with him?

  He chuckled and picked up the tray, eating with the focused ease of a soldier who’d learned to take what time was given him. But even then, his eyes flicked up, watching and waiting.

  The memory of his mouth—soft and firm all at once—surfaced like a betrayal. The kiss I’d used to distract him the night I drugged him still hummed through me, haunting me. I wished I hadn’t used that tactic, because oblivion was so much better than knowing how good his kiss felt.

  “You never told me where we’re going,” he said between bites. “And as flattering as this private cruise is, I’ve got responsibilities and a family who’ll be wondering where I am.”

  “Well, they still haven’t started searching for you,” I pointed out, drawing a dismissive sound from him. “Anyhow, we’re sailing east.”

  “East?” he questioned. “It’s a big ol’ world out there, can’t you be more specific?”

  “No.”

  His whole posture shifted, just enough for me to catch it.

  “Are you trying to start a war?” His voice dropped an octave, no longer amused. “Or are you and your siblings just plain stupid?”

  I leaned in until I could feel his breath on my cheek.

  “Careful, Gabriel. I won’t blink twice before cutting that silver tongue out.”

  He didn’t flinch. “As long as it’s not my dick, we’re square.”

  “Men,” I muttered. “Besides, I already told you. Nobody’s looking for you, so no danger of starting a war.”

  He set the fork down.

  “What are you and Elira doing, Amara? Following Jet’s orders? You think his twin’s really on your side? Those two would sell each other out to save their own skin. What makes you think they’d be loyal to you?”

  “You’re wrong about that.”

  He puffed out his chest. Arrogant prick. “No, I’m not, and deep down you know it.”

  The problem was that I believed Jet and Elira would always have each other’s backs before mine. It was only natural, and I never minded it. But that didn’t mean I thought they would ever betray me.

  “And where is Jet?” He studied me like he was trying to pick apart lies from half-truths.

  “You tell me.”

  “Why the hell would I know?” he snapped, finally cracking.

  But I didn’t flinch. I had questions of my own that I couldn’t ask.

  “You and Jet… You didn’t make some kind of deal?”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Anyone who trusts Jet enough to make a deal is either desperate or suicidal.”

  “That’s not true.” It was. God help me, it really was.

  “Where are we going, Amara?”

  I finally decided it didn’t matter if he knew or not. He was stuck here under my guard, under my and Elira’s watchful eye.

  “Albania.”

  His breath caught and stillness followed.

  “Anya.” Her name came out like an oath. Sacred. Tender. “You’re making a mistake,” he said, voice tightening.

  “We’re just following the coordinates we were given.”

  “To my fucking sister,” he growled, launching forward. “Jet’s leading you straight to Anya. He wants her!”

  My gun was out before he took his next breath.

  “Back off,” I ordered coldly. “Put your hands on the rail, or I’ll make sure you reach our destination riddled with bullets.”

  For a long beat, he didn’t move. Then he exhaled and let a blank mask fall over his features.

  “Here.” He placed his hands where they’d been earlier. “Happy?”

  “Put the cuffs back on. Through the rail.”

  He obeyed, and I leaned in to lock them—close enough that his lips brushed my ear—as he whispered, “You’re going to regret this, Amara. Your brother wants my sister.”

  Click.

  I stepped back, holstered my gun, and picked up the silverware that scattered all over the floor in silence. Then I powered up the television and selected Stephen King’s Misery from the movie options, which I thought was fitting, before heading for the door.

  “Jet has never even met Anya.” If Anya had met him, she would have surely mentioned it. “We’re halfway there,” I said without looking at him. “Enjoy the quiet while it lasts.”

  “Your love for your siblings is blinding you.”

  “And your paranoia about your sister is blinding you,” I said softly. “I promise you, Santos, Jet doesn’t want Anya. She’s not his type.”

  “She’s all he’s wanted,” he said, fury laced with fear. “For almost a year.”

  I startled, my hand pausing on the doorknob, then shook my head. He was trying to get a rise out of me, that was all.

  I glanced at him over my shoulder and said, “There’s no scenario in which Jet would have met Anya, much less have something to do with her. He would have told me otherwise.”

  Would he? I questioned myself silently. Jet was notoriously private when it came to his love life, so maybe he wouldn’t. However, Anya would, and she had definitely not mentioned my brother.

  “Anya is the key to whatever your brother’s up to,” Gabriel gritted, and I had no doubt that he believed it. Yet, it seemed unfathomable. Right?

  He stared at me, eyes sharp, but behind the steel, something cracked. “Wherever this goes… you’re going to regret not trusting me.”

  “We’re all already regretting something,” I whispered.

  He didn’t answer. Only the soft clink of chains followed me out and the heavy silence of everything we weren’t saying.

  Gabriel

  The door clicked shut, and with it, the storm she dragged in with her words and actions finally settled.

  The movie began playing on the screen, and I had to wonder at Amara’s choice of entertainment. It was disturbing.

  Ignoring it, I stared at the metal rail where my wrists were once again cuffed. I let the pain simmer in my jaw, the taste of control lost sitting like rust on my tongue.

  She hadn’t believed a word I said. She’d pulled a weapon on me. Even worse was that she had cemented her faith in Jet, the fucker who’d go to extreme lengths to get what he wanted. Maybe I should have told her what I’d overheard between Jet and Elira on the phone, but when she leveled that gun at me, I knew she was already too deep under her siblings’ sway to believe anything I said.

  And still, my loudest thought had been how close her mouth had come to mine.

  What the hell, Gabriel?

  I sat back and closed my eyes. I didn’t bother uncuffing myself, instead I let the tension seep into my muscles until it burned. My eyes zeroed in on the screen.

  Whatever game Jet was playing, Amara was walking into a deathtrap and dragging my sister and me into it, all because she refused to see Jet for who he really was: a loaded gun.

  And she thought I was the threat.

  A bitter laugh rose in my throat. I swallowed it. I didn’t have time to tend to my wounded pride, not now when Anya’s life was in danger of getting caught in Jet’s web.

  I leaned forward and started to strategize.

  Amara wasn’t stupid, but she could be distracted.

  By me.

  She tried to hide her reaction to me behind a clipped tone and stiff shoulders, but I’d seen the flicker. The heat she tried to crush. The way her body responded before her brain could catch up.

  It would be my leverage.

  Brute force, threats, and reason could never work on her. However, desire was an entirely different matter. She didn’t trust my words, but she was starting to trust how I made her feel.

  That, I could work with.

  A dual-purpose plan started to form in my mind: save my sister and win Amara. Not with lies, but with carefully offered truths.

  It would be the best of both worlds, and then I’d deal with Jet and his twin once and for all.

  Amara was used to liars, manipulators. So I’d be different. I’d make her feel safe with me. Needed. Wanted.

  The old Gabriel would’ve played it light, flirty. But that wouldn’t work on her. No, Amara didn’t need sweet words. She needed intimacy disguised as honesty. Moments that felt real, even if they weren’t. She needed vulnerability.

  I stared at the spot where she’d stood by the door. It was still faintly scented with warmth.

  She’d made it clear she’d shoot me. Maybe even kill me if I pushed too far.

  But her hands had trembled when she pointed that gun at me. Her eyes had flashed when I said Jet wanted Anya. That wasn’t just fury. That was confusion, a crack in her foundation.

  And I could widen that crack.

  Tomorrow, I’d apologize. I’d offer a breadcrumb of truth about Jet’s proposition back at the club. Not enough to reveal everything, but enough to raise doubt.

  And in the quiet moments—when we were alone in this floating prison of hers—I’d let her see something real in me.

  And if I played it right, she’d not only uncuff me.

  She’d trust me. She’d want me. And that… that would be the real shift in her loyalties.

  Because the second Amara wanted me more than she trusted her twisted siblings, I’d own her.

  And from there?

  Everything would unravel exactly the way I wanted.

  But first… I had to wait.

  Chains rattled as I shifted back against the bed frame and closed my eyes, letting the steady pitch of the sea rock me into calm.

  We were halfway to Albania, and by the time we got there, she’d be mine.

  Amara

  Elira had been pacing the yacht all morning, citing a strange noise coming from the generator. I didn’t question it. Whatever excuse she needed to vanish for a while, I welcomed it. The silence she left behind was a relief.

  I needed space to think, to breathe, and to try to make sense of what Gabriel had revealed yesterday.

  I hadn’t gone back to his cabin since that conversation. No lunch. No dinner. No check-ins.

  I’d handed that task off to Elira.

  She said he wasn’t talking much. Not to her.

  After Elira disappeared, I went into my own cabin that felt like a different world, the air still and thick with everything I hadn’t dared to say out loud—and maybe never would.

  My window was cracked open, letting in the breeze. Occasionally, voices drifted in from the deck, muffled and distant. It made the stillness in here feel louder, almost alive.

  I stared at my phone for too long. First at the lock screen, then at the time, and then at the contact list. Her name was there, waiting.

  Anya.

  My thumb hovered over the call button. I didn’t know what I wanted to say or do. But I knew something in my chest had been pulling tighter and tighter, like a thread snagged on something sharp. And I needed to loosen it.

  So I called.

  Anya answered on the second ring.

  “Hey.” Her voice was soft but a little distracted.

  “Hey,” I said. “Am I interrupting?”

  She laughed, but it sounded tight.

  “Not really. I’ve just been calling Gabriel. I haven’t been able to get in touch with him.”

  Fuck!

  “I can call back later,” I rushed out, guilt clawing at my chest. What the hell was I thinking? That she wouldn’t notice he was missing?

  “No, no. I need the distraction. Gabriel is probably off doing something stupid. Now, tell me, what’s up? Is everything okay?”

  I sighed. “I… just needed to talk. Are you sure now is a good time?”

  There was a pause that made me feel like shit. It never crossed my mind that Anya would notice him gone. He always seemed to be jetting around the world, and he hadn’t mentioned her in Colombia. It certainly showed how much I knew about him.

  “Yeah,” she said finally. “Are you okay?”

  “Kinda.” I rubbed my thumb along the edge of my phone. “I have a weird question.”

  Another pause stretched, but this one was a different kind. Weighted.

  “Okay…”

  “Have you ever met my stepbrother?” I asked. My voice didn’t waver, but I was aware of how careful I sounded.

  A breath escaped her on the other end. Something had shifted.

  “I couldn’t remember if I’d introduced you to Jet and Elira,” I added, lying. I knew for a fact I’d never introduced them, and my siblings didn’t attend D’Arc, so there shouldn’t have been a reason for Anya to have crossed paths with either of them.