18. SQUALO
SQUALO
It’s been two hours of silence, and I preferred it this way. Because if she said a single word again, I’d end up doing something I’d regret. In my mind, there were hundreds of ways to shut her up, but none of them involved her being an inch away from me, and a lot of it included her mouth on mine.
The sun hung high in the sky, burning our skin by the time we reached the lighthouse. From where it sat, I could tell it was late afternoon as I squinted against the light.
When I first came here, I’d thought it would take me hours to reach it. Instead, it made me realize the island was smaller than I’d imagined, and I’d arrived far sooner than expected.
The lighthouse door was locked. I would’ve assumed someone had bought the island and built everything here, including the lighthouse, hoping to make a life on it. Instead, the place had simply been abandoned.
The island was surrounded by open sea, with no other islands nearby. That meant it was the perfect place to hide. And if Bianchi knew about it, it was dangerous. They could stash stolen art here, maybe even drugs.
I wanted to break in, but then I remembered an old trick with a key Lorenzo had taught me after I’d once locked myself out of the apartment I was renting. Just as I was about to slide the key into the lock, I realized it was the one Gianni had left me.
It fit perfectly.
The lock clicked open, and now, all I had to do was push the door open.
I let her step inside first. Then I stayed by the entrance, leaning against the doorframe as I scanned every inch of the tall walls beyond it.
The lighthouse was wider at the bottom and narrower at the top.
A spiral staircase wound its way from the ground floor all the way up to the beacon that guided ships away from the island.
At the bottom, on the right, sat a single bed, barely big enough for one person, with a small toilet tucked beside it.
On the left was what looked like a tiny kitchen, and next to it a wooden desk with two chairs.
The lower level had only one window, while a few more appeared higher up the tower.
The whole place was a mess, thick with the stale smell of air that hadn’t moved in years.
The table was buried beneath papers and letters, which only begged the question of how they’d all ended up here.
Dirty dishes still sat in the sink. Every surface was coated in dust, and the wardrobe beside the bed held clothes that looked like they belonged to an older man.
As she stepped inside, her gaze swept across the room before settling on me. I tried not to meet her eyes, so she slowly drifted towards the wall where the wardrobe stood, studying the photographs resting in gold frames.
In two quick steps, I reached the table. My eyes skimmed over the scattered documents, searching for anything that could connect this place to Gianni. The moment one of the papers landed in my hands, everything finally clicked into place.
On the page, a small table listed the dates and names of people who had registered on the island. Among them was a permanent resident, Victor De Luca, who, according to the document, first arrived in 1988 and stayed until 1990. He returned later and remained until 2002.
It didn’t say the island belonged to him, only that he had been a permanent resident. I lifted my head and looked at her as she searched through her own father’s clothes without even knowing it.
Beneath the document were letters mentioning the painting my mother had painted, along with the map. Underneath them lay a complete copy of the map itself. I picked up one of the letters dated 1988, the year he first arrived here. My eyes traveled over the faded words as I read.
“Dear Victor,
It’s my ultimate pleasure to have you on board for this research, and I couldn’t find a better cartographer to restore a map we discovered.
As per our agreed contract, all details regarding the island and the map must remain secret.
Once the treasure is found, ten percent will be yours, as agreed.
Please keep me updated if you find something.
Best regards,
Sarah Sinclair”
I placed the letter back on the table and turned towards Gabriella.
“Was your father’s name Victor?”
She turned slowly, her tangled hair slipping over her shoulder before falling behind her back.
“Yes. Why?”
“You should see this,” I said, stepping back as she hurried towards the table.
In an instant, she was beside me. Her palm landed on the table, sliding across the papers as her eyes raced over every line. Tears welled in her eyes as each new piece of information sank in.
She turned to me. “So my father didn’t just leave. He left me for some treasure hunt, just like my brother.”
Her voice cracked.
“Come here.” I caught the front of her shirt and gently pulled her into my arms.
Her tears soaked through my shirt, while her hands trembled against my chest.
She had carried so much pain for so long, yet she still found ways to take care of everyone else. Her brother. Her mother. They didn’t deserve someone like her.
“We don’t choose our parents,” I said. “When my mum died, it was easier to blame you than to blame her.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I blamed my mother. Now I know he didn’t even leave because of her…”
“It doesn’t matter.” I eased her back just enough to look into her eyes. “It still hurts.”
“I got used to it,” she said, clutching my shirt.
I parted my lips. Seeing her this vulnerable stirred something inside me. Something unfamiliar, something I still couldn’t name.
A sound came in from outside.
It was faint at first. Then came the scrape of a boat’s hull grinding against the rocks.
“Can you hear that?” I asked.
I cupped her cheeks, brushing a strand of hair away from her face where it had stuck to the tear tracks.
“Stay here,” I said quietly. “Don’t come out until I know it’s clear.”
Leaning down, I rested my forehead against the top of her head.
“Understood?”
Before I could stop myself, my lips brushed the crown of her head.
What the fuck, Oliver?
A kiss on the top of her head?
I cleared my throat as she nodded, then stepped outside.
Closing the door behind me, I scanned the shoreline for boats, but all I found were barrels and supplies from the yacht scattered across the beach in front of the lighthouse.
The current must have carried them all the way to the island, just as it had carried us.
Making my way down, I noticed someone lying on the shore.
From the color alone, I knew whoever it was had been dead for a while.
A few more steps brought me to the body of a dark haired woman. Or rather, what was left of her. Only the upper half remained. The rest had been torn away by a shark.
Slowly, I knelt beside her. My stomach twisted, already knowing this might be Isabella.
I gently turned her over.
Her face was swollen from days in the sea, almost unrecognizable, but the small butterfly necklace resting against her neck stopped me cold.
A few nights ago, she clutched it while she talked to me.
I knew it was her.
Carefully, I dragged her further up the shore before returning to the shallow water to gather whatever had come from the yacht.
A first aid kit floated between the rocks, along with a small purse and two bags of vegetables that had once been frozen but had thawed in the sea.
Nearby, a barrel of red wine bobbed in the water, one the chef had kept for dinner service.
I hauled everything onto the beach and placed it beside Isabella’s body.
No one prepares you for this.
For gathering the scattered pieces of people you knew.
For standing over someone who was alive only days ago, knowing the image would follow you long after you closed your eyes.
For being stranded on an island with no way home.
Everything became survival, and nothing else mattered anymore.
My whole life, I’d been a rich asshole who thought only about money and finding an escape. Standing there, staring at Isabella, I finally understood that life had never been about money.
It was about living, the people beside you. About love. About the quiet, ordinary moments you never think to appreciate until they’re gone.
One day, every one of us reaches the end.The tragedy is that most of us don’t realize what truly matters until it’s already too late.
She sacrificed herself, knowing there was no way out, and gave the two of us a chance. I’d be a fool to take that for granted.
Part of me was still trapped in the hurt Gabriella had caused, while another part wanted to give her a chance after all the years we’d lost. And if we were rescued, maybe we’d finally decide whether we still had something between us or whether we’d become nothing more than strangers who only knew each other from afar.
I turned towards the lighthouse, and I saw her. Both her hands were clamped over her mouth, trapping the scream that fought to break free. She had just watched another friend disappear into the sea, and every fear she’d buried rose back to the surface.
I didn’t think as she came closer. I rushed in front of her, cutting her off before she could see Isabella like this. My hands wrapped around her wrists, holding her still as I stood over her.
“Don’t,” I said.
Like some twisted déjà vu from a year ago.
And just like a year ago, she didn’t listen.
She shoved me aside and stumbled towards what was left of Isabella’s body. Another sob tore from her, so raw it made my own vision blur.
If I tried to count how many people she’d lost, one hand wouldn’t be enough. Yet she still chose to smile. I knew what that kind of pain looked like because I’d seen it. And now I knew I had to keep her a little closer.
I walked over and crouched beside her. As she reached for Isabella’s hand, her own arm trembled. I slipped an arm around her and gently took her hand in mine.
Holding her against me, I held onto her hand while she cried. Her mouth fell open, and all that came out were broken screams, swallowed beneath the endless rain of tears streaming down her face.
“I got you,” I whispered against her forehead. “I got you, Blue.”
I closed my eyes and held her tighter, so close I could feel her heartbeat pounding against my chest.
“If we bury her here, and if we ever leave…” she whispered between sobs. “She’ll be all alone.”
Her voice cracked.
“Just like me.”
“No, no.” I lifted her face, making her look at me. “You will never be alone as long as you have me.”
“But what if you leave me too?”
I looked into her tear-filled eyes, and no words came.
Instead, I pulled her closer.
One tear slipped down my cheek.
Fuck.
She broke me. She shattered every piece of me I’d buried years ago and left nothing behind. Every feeling I’d hidden beneath the mask of a cold-blooded playboy with no heart surfaced, and in a single day she reduced me to this wreck.
“I will never leave you,” I said, a lump rising in my throat. “As long as I breathe.”
I held out my hand, my pinky extended.
She stared at it for a moment, remembering us as kids. Our first promise.
Slowly, she hooked her pinky around mine, then pressed her thumb against my thumb, sealing it the way we always had.
“I’ll bury her,” I said. “You stay here.”
“I want to go with you.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell her no.
I got to my feet and held out my hand. She took it, and I pulled her up beside me.
Life is a fucked-up version of survival while someone else pulls the strings. I never believed in God, but if I ever did, I’d only have one prayer.
If any of us made it out alive, let it be her.
I dug a small grave, deep enough to hold Isabella’s body.
Gabriella sat nearby, staring at the patch of earth, her eyes never once moved towards the sea she feared so much.
After I laid Isabella to rest, Gabriella reached for a small pink flower she’d found growing between the rocks and placed it gently on her chest.
“I think she liked pink,” she sniffed. “I hope you find peace.”
I covered Isabella with dirt and stones. Then, using small pebbles, Gabriella carefully made a cross at the top of the grave and tucked a few more flowers around it. She made sure Isabella would rest in peace.
Night slowly settled over the island, and we made our way back to the lighthouse, carrying everything we’d managed to find. I heard her stomach growl more than once. Every time I asked what she wanted to eat, even though we barely had any choices, her answer never changed.
She couldn’t.
I opened the door and let her step inside first. She walked straight to the table and sank into one of the chairs.
“You take the bed. I know you need the rest.”
“No,” I said. “You need it more than I do.”
“I wouldn’t sleep,” she murmured. “I would just…”
Her voice faded.
I walked over and crouched beside her.
“Talk to me,” I said. “I know there’s so much you’re keeping inside, but you can always talk to me.” I managed a small smile. “I’m the only other person on this island.”
She didn’t smile back.
“Maybe tomorrow,” she said weakly.
I nodded and walked to the wardrobe.
Behind me, I heard her crying again.
I pulled out the clean sheets and started changing the bed. As I threw back the blanket, a bug crawled across the mattress.
“I’m not taking this bed,” I said, throwing my hands in the air.
She let out a tired breath.
“If you don’t want it, I’ll take it.”
She slowly pushed herself to her feet and walked over. The second she spotted the bugs, a quiet scream escaped her mouth.
“No.” She took a step back. “I’ll stick to the floor.”
She looked at me, trying to work out where she was going to sleep. She’d just refused the bed, but her eyes betrayed her.
“There is only one clean sheet,” I said, moving against the wall and leaving enough space for her beside me.
“No,” she said, pacing across the floor. “I’m not tired.”
“Blue,” I said.
“Don’t call me that. I have a name.” Her voice sharpened.
“Blue,” I repeated, just to tease her.
She marched over, crouched in front of me, and smacked my shoulder.
“Stop it.”
“I will if you lie down and at least try to sleep.”
She sighed and slowly lay down, turning to face me.
The lighthouse sat in silence. Moonlight spilled through the window, washing over her face until every freckle stood out against her skin. I reached up and traced a finger gently across the bridge of her nose, counting them again.
“Still thirty-three,” I said.
“Thirty-three what?” she asked, opening one eye.
“Freckles.” I chuckled. “I counted them the day we met, when we were just kids.”
A small smile found her lips as she closed her eyes.
“Good night, Olly.”
“Good night,” I whispered.
Some people would say we were lucky. After the shipwreck, we still had a roof over our heads, somewhere to survive.
But the truth was, this was a battle too.
And while we fought to stay alive, she was drowning somewhere no ocean could reach.
Still, she smiled.
Even if it was only for me.