Chapter 32
POSEIDON
Cordelia had gone to the library an hour ago. Something about her felt… off, though she claimed she just needed space to breathe, time to unwind, and I let her go.
Minos stormed into my study, eyes dark with the fury of an ancient beast roused from slumber, a wrath that carried the weight of centuries.
The air itself seemed to recoil, pressure thickening like the deep sea pressing in.
Power stirred in my veins in answer, salt and storm rising sharp and restless, ready to meet whatever tempest he brought with him.
‘The mermen picked up a factory ship, ten miles out. Looks like someone decided your ban doesn’t apply to them,’ Minos reported.
Fury surged through me, cold and sharp as a tidal surge.
My jaw clenched, every word heavy with the memory of oceans scarred.
Vessels like that nearly broke my seas. Ninety percent of the great fish were slaughtered before we regained control—whole ecosystems collapsed—reefs turned to graveyards, currents ran empty, life bled from the depths.
My power stirred restlessly, the water itself seeming to shudder with my rage.
There was a knock on the door, and Cordelia stepped inside. The storm I’d been holding back stilled for half a breath at the sight of her. Her eyes flicked from me to Minos, catching the tension crackling in the room, and worry flashed across her face.
‘What is it?’ she asked, voice tight, as if she already knew she wouldn’t like the answer.
I exhaled, dragging a hand through my hair. ‘A factory ship. Ten miles from here. They’ve broken my ban.’
Her brows pinched, fear and anger mingling in her gaze. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘What I must.’ My voice came out harsher than I intended. I softened it. ‘I have to deal with this. It won’t be pretty.’
She took a step closer, chin lifting, eyes steady on mine. ‘Then I’m coming with you.’
‘No.’ The word lashed out, sharper than I intended—raw instinct. Fear gripped me, cold and merciless. I couldn’t let her walk into danger, not when the thought of losing her hollowed me out more than any battle ever had.
‘This isn’t for you. It’s dangerous, brutal—’
‘And you think I can’t handle it?’ she cut in, fire sparking in her tone. ‘I’ve faced worse. Don’t shut me out.’
For a heartbeat, silence pressed heavy between us. Then, from the corner of my vision, I caught Minos studying her. The hard lines of his face eased, just slightly, and a twitch of something—almost a smile—pulled at his lips. Respect.
I clenched my fists, torn between rage at the ship, fear for her safety, and the fierce pride burning in her voice. She was brave. How she was brave.
My shoulders sagged as I met her gaze. ‘If you come, you stay at my side. No straying. No arguments.’
Her lips curved in that stubborn half-smile I knew too well. ‘Deal.’
And just like that, the storm inside me shifted—not calmed, not diminished—but focused.
We didn’t waste time. Cordelia and I ran to our chamber, shedding clothes in a hurry.
I pulled on swim trunks—practical and easy.
She reached for the garment I’d given her: a thin, second-skin fabric that shimmered faintly in the light.
On land it clung to her like silk, soft and weightless, but beneath the water it would harden into enchanted armour, letting her move with speed and protection no mortal gear could offer.
She tugged it over her bikini with a muttered curse, then shot me a look.
‘So you get away with swim trunks, and I’m here wrestling magical spandex?’ she huffed, tugging the fabric over her shoulder.
My mouth curved despite the urgency, my pulse thundering with fury at the trespass, but beneath it, fear coiled tight—for her.
Her hair pulled back, eyes blazing with that same reckless fire I both hated and craved, I seized her hand. ‘Stay close,’ I warned, voice low, rough.
She squeezed once, fearless as ever. ‘Always.’
I summoned the sea. The world bent, folded, and when it opened again, we stood suspended in her endless blue.
The ocean pressed around us, vast and crushing, but I wrapped us in a bubble of air, the currents sliding off it like silk.
She gasped, testing the air, wide-eyed at the weight of water pressing against our fragile sphere. I didn’t need it, but she did.
‘You’re safe,’ I murmured, holding the bubble steady with a flicker of power.
Then the shadows came. Long, sleek bodies cut through the water around us—my mermen. Scaled tails flashed silver and green, their movements fluid and deadly, tridents clutched in strong hands.
Cordelia’s eyes went wide, her mouth parting.
‘Holy shit. Actual mermen. Do they all look like… that?’ Her gaze flicked over their bare torsos, the rippling muscle, the ink curling across their skin.
Then she shot me a sideways look, lips quirking.
‘Well, damn. You didn’t tell me Genesion came with eye candy.
’ She leaned closer, stage-whispering as if it was some grand secret.
‘If this whole god-of-the-sea thing doesn’t work out, you could make a fortune selling merman calendars. ’
Despite the fury burning in my veins, a rough laugh caught in my chest. Gods, only she would ogle my soldiers at a time like this.
The hunting party circled us, guiding us wordlessly through the depths. We followed them towards the surface breach, to the factory ship poisoning my domain.
The hull came into view first—an iron leviathan squatting on the sea as if it owned her.
A hundred and seventy-nine meters long, over twenty-six thousand tons of steel and greed.
A floating slaughterhouse, capable of processing six hundred tons of fish a day and housing a crew for months at a time. Nothing but a machine built for ruin.
Beside me, Cordelia’s breath hitched. Her hand pressed lightly to the bubble wall, eyes wide as the enormity of it sank in. ‘That thing’s a city,’ she whispered. ‘A city built to kill.’
Her words sharpened the fury in my chest. These vessels were more than ships—they were parasites, stripping life from the water until nothing remained but silence and bones.
I raised a hand to the mermen circling us, a gesture of thanks. They inclined their heads, eyes gleaming with pride, before they vanished into the depths.
Then I caught Cordelia’s hand, and with a twist of power, we stood on steel. The deck of the factory ship shuddered beneath our feet, men freezing where they stood as I grew to my true godly size, my trident coalescing in my grasp—long, gold, dangerous, humming with the promise of wrath.
Their eyes widened. Their courage failed; they knew who stood among them.
‘You flout my laws,’ I thundered, voice carrying like a storm across the sea.
‘You poison my waters. You strip life from my domain with your factory ships, your nets that take more than the sea can give. I forbade the supertrawlers. I forbade the slaughter of the endangered. I decreed limits, so the ocean might endure… but you defy me. You take without care, without balance. Mercy is gone, and the punishment for breaking my law… is death.’
The men quaked where they stood, pale and trembling.
I slammed the trident against the deck, and the ocean answered with a roar. From the abyss, shadows stirred, vast and terrible. A great shape broke the surface—serpentine, scaled, its maw lined with teeth the length of a house. A monster born of my will and the sea’s fury.
The ship bucked beneath us as waves reared high, salt spray cutting through the air like knives.
Cordelia stumbled, and instinct took hold.
I lowered my godly bulk, and in a heartbeat drove the trident down once more.
The water obeyed—rising, swirling upward in a coiling column that caught us in its grasp.
The sea lifted us clear of the deck, a spiralling fountain of living water that bore us high above the chaos.
Beneath us, the crew screamed as the beast coiled around the hull, scales glinting bronze and green beneath the fractured light, squeezing, dragging, lifting the factory ship as if it were nothing but driftwood.
Metal shrieked, snapping like bones, and with a single devastating lunge, it swallowed the factory ship whole, dragging it into the abyss as though it had never existed, and not a drop of oil touched the water.
Cordelia clung to me, her eyes wide with shock. And then, with a flicker of thought, I pulled us away.
We reformed on a secluded beach, far from the stench of men and machines. The surf broke softly against the sand, as though the sea itself sighed in relief.
She rounded on me, breathless. ‘What the actual fuck was that?’
‘A drákon,’ I said, my voice still rough with power. The word thrummed in the air, old as the tides. ‘A sea dragon. Serpentine and ancient… one of the few still bound to me.’
She blinked, staring at the place where the ocean had already gone calm again, as if nothing had happened. Then she looked back at me, half-shocked, half-thrilled. ‘You’re telling me you’ve got pet sea dragons stashed down there like guard dogs?’
Despite the storm still burning in me, a smile tugged at my mouth. ‘Not pets, Little Red. Allies. And they do not answer to anyone else.’
She dragged a hand through her wet hair, then glanced back at me, eyes too bright. ‘Remind me never to get on your bad side, Poseidon.’
Her words were snark, but I caught the tremor underneath, the unease she was trying to mask.
I reached for her, cupping her jaw, forcing her gaze to mine. ‘They will never harm you,’ I said, steady and certain. ‘Neither will I. You are mine, Cordelia. My kardia. Whatever monsters answer to me, whatever storms I call, they will only ever protect you.’
Her breath caught, that spark of fear easing just a fraction under the weight of my words.