The Night of Betrayal
Chapter Four
SADIE
The lights die sometime after midnight.
I jolt upright in bed, the immediate silence deafening. There’s no overhead hum or soft buzz from the hallway fixtures—just the groan of metal and the distant crash of waves against the hull.
A loud thump echoes from somewhere down the hallway. It’s quickly followed by Tipper’s booming voice.
“Not me!”
I shut my eyes as Dad shouts back. “I did it last time!”
I bury my face in my pillow. At least the power outage hasn’t impacted their ability to annoy me. After a few minutes, I climb out of bed and head for the galley in search of a flashlight. We always keep a spare one in the cabinets—assuming Tipper hasn’t moved it.
I’m just reaching the doorway of the galley when I notice a faint glow spilling out from the wheelhouse. Is Dad watching the sonar again?
I pad over, rubbing my eyes as I peek through the doorway.
Not Dad.
Kyros.
He stands at the navigation table, his back to me as he points a flashlight at one of Dad’s maps. I inch closer, confused as I realize it’s one of Dad’s mermaid maps. Several of them have been spread across the navigation table.
Hand-drawn current lines crisscross the paper, and the margins are filled with scribbled notes. Tiny arrows show imaginary migration routes stretching across the Pacific.
I cross my arms. “What are you doing?”
Kyros doesn’t react to the sound of my voice, almost as if he already knew I was here. He continues scanning the maps, his flashlight flickering from note to note.
“Well?” I pry.
Kyros sighs. “I couldn’t sleep.”
I frown, leaning against the doorframe. “You couldn’t sleep, so you decided to study my father’s mermaid conspiracy theories?”
Kyros shrugs, then traces one of the routes with his fingertip.
He’s a great conversationalist.
I shift from foot to foot, feeling awkward. Kyros turns as if sensing it, peering at me over his shoulder.
“I accept your apology,” he drawls out.
I raise a brow. “It’s too late. I already took it back.”
His eyes narrow, but the very corners of his lips twitch upward. I suspect he’s beginning to warm up to me, but it’s too late. I don’t like him.
“I need to reset the generator,” I continue, stepping away. “Don’t let Dad catch you in here. He’s protective of his maps.”
Kyros only grunts as I leave the room.
By the time I finish resetting the generator—a man’s job that Dad or Tipper should’ve jumped to do instead of leaving me to do the heavy lifting—the wheelhouse is empty and the door to Kyros’s small room is firmly shut.
I pause outside it, debating the morality of pressing my ear against the door and eavesdropping, before continuing to my room.
I wake up again to something slamming into the side of the boat hard enough to rattle my bunk. I almost fall out of bed, but I catch myself at the very last moment.
What the fuck?
Did we hit something? Did a pot line snag the propeller? Is anybody on deck? Storms bring crushing waves, but nothing like this.
The automatic alarm system is screaming, the sound loud enough to cut through walls and rattle my thoughts. It’s a high-pitched wail that makes my heart leap straight to my throat. I’m on the move within a split second, hopping out of bed and ripping open the bunkroom door.
I swallow. “What the—”
Another jolt rocks the boat. I go with it, my shoulder slamming against the wall as the boat tilts sharply beneath me. The alarm continues blaring. It’s not the gentle warning beep Dad sometimes uses when a pot line snags. This is the real alarm. The emergency one.
I step out into the hallway. The overhead light flickers, throwing the narrow corridor into a sickly yellow strobe. It’s unnerving.
“Dad?” I call out.
No answer.
The boat shudders again, lurching sideways, and something heavy crashes somewhere above me.
“Tipper?” I shout.
Still nothing.
The alarm continues screaming.
My stomach twists. This is serious. Somebody should be yelling by now. Dad should be barking orders, and Tipper should be swearing. There should be noise—so much noise.
But the hallway is empty.
Silent.
Except for the damned alarm.
A cold, creeping dread slides down my spine. Something is very, very wrong.
I grab the wall for balance and force my way down the hallway, ignoring the panicked pounding of my heart. Were they on deck? Did something happen out there?
“Dad!” I call again.
Nothing.
I shove open the exterior door leading to the deck. Rain slams into me, lashing against my bare arms and legs. My light-gray cotton pajamas do nothing to stop the sudden onslaught of cold.
Wind whips my hair around my head, and I shove it out of my face as I stumble out onto the deck. The storm has come back with a vengeance, which doesn’t make sense.
We were traveling away from the storm.
Unless we changed course…
Fucking hell. Dad’s taking us toward the cluster of something he picked up on the sonar.
Lightning splits the sky overhead, and that’s when I see him.
Kyros.
He’s near the rail, tall and imposing as he storms across the deck. Relief sweeps through me. Thank God he’s unharmed. The deck light above him sways with the boat, casting long shadows across his rain-soaked frame. What’s he doing out here?
There’s another flash of lightning.
That’s when I see the blood.
It streaks down his arms and across his shirt, covering him like a second skin. My brain struggles to process the sight. Is he hurt?
“Kyros?”
My voice barely travels over the wind, but he still hears it. His entire body seems to stiffen before he turns to face me. My stomach drops the moment my dark blue eyes meet his red-speckled ones, but I shove the unnecessary paranoia aside.
“What’s happening?” I ask.
The alarm continues screaming behind me. I glance toward the wheelhouse.
“Where’s my dad?”
Rain runs down Kyros’s jaw, dripping from his chin. He looks…off. He’s not panicked, not scared. He’s just standing there, his expression unnervingly empty.
I take a step back. “Kyros?”
Another wave slams into the hull. The deck tilts violently, and I skid across the deck before grabbing on to the nearest railing. We shouldn’t be out here, not when the water is this rough. It’ll throw us overboard, and there’ll be no rescue.
The ocean will swallow us within seconds.
Kyros doesn’t move. He stands firm, not falling victim to the rough sways.
Lightning flashes again.
The red flecks in his eyes seem to shine, brighter than ever before.
“Where’s Dad?” I ask again. “Tipper?” My words come out sharper, almost accusatory.
Kyros exhales slowly, almost regretfully.
“It’s a shame,” he says, shrugging. “I almost liked you.”
For a moment, I don’t understand. Then I do. The realization is a punch to the chest.
“What—”
Kyros steps toward me, his jaw tightening as he closes the distance between us. Up close, I can see the blood clearly. There’s so much of it. A thick drop slides down his forearm and splatters against the deck near his boot.
“Kyros…” My voice comes out small. Pleading.
He lifts a hand. For a second, it hovers near my shoulder, almost like he’s reconsidering. Like he might actually stop.
His fingers curl slightly, but then his expression hardens.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I promise I don’t enjoy this.”
He shoves me. Hard. The safety railing flashes past my vision, and a wild scream rips from my throat as I tumble overboard.
The ocean below is black, and I hit the water hard enough to knock the air from my lungs. Swimming is impossible. The waves pull me immediately under, swallowing me whole.