Mirael’s arrival is quiet—a flash of sea-green coat, wet hair braided down her back, a smile too bright for the gray morning. She moves through the lighthouse’s kitchen like she owns it, dropping her bag on the counter with a confidence that draws glances. Her gaze lands on Selis, who stands stiffly by the sink, arms crossed over her navy workshirt, jaw clenched tight. Mirael offers a laugh so gentle it barely ripples the surface. “I was hoping you’d be here. I have news about the funding.”

Selis levels her with a stare—eyebrows pinched, lower lip caught between teeth—and says nothing at first. Her fingers drum a wild, nervous rhythm on the porcelain mug. Mirael steps closer, the air between them charged with a current only Selis can feel. “The town wants proof this place is still worth saving,” Mirael murmurs. Her hand finds Selis’s arm, fingers resting just a second too long. Selis tenses, pulling away. There’s no softness in her eyes, only the glint of a woman protecting everything she loves—perhaps to a fault.

From the doorway, Vael watches them, dark hair unkempt, the collar of his shirt askew. A ghost of a smile creeps across his lips—an observer relishing the tension he’s fostered. “You here to collect your pound of flesh, Mirael?” he drawls, voice seductive and edged with threat. Mirael barely glances at him, dismissing him with a tilt of her chin.

Behind them, Kavi lingers, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, body hunched small as if she could disappear into the peeling paint. When Mirael finally notices her, she offers that same dazzling smile and a too-sweet, “You must be Kavi. I’ve heard so much.” Kavi scoffs, rolling her eyes, but the bite is dulled by the flush on her cheeks—the need to not be overlooked still raw and open.

Vael moves around Mirael and Selis, touching the small of Selis’s back as he passes—a subtle reminder of possession. Selis’s gaze darts to Kavi, daring her to protest. But Kavi looks away, tongue pressing against the inside of her cheek, angry and ashamed.

Later, the kitchen an empty shell, Selis finds Vael in the stairwell, shadows climbing his cheekbones. She tries to draw him in, to rebuild what’s been lost, but her voice is jagged, trembling with need and accusation. “You still want me, or is that just habit?” she whispers, pressing her body into his. He kisses her—hungry, punishing, hands gripping her waist. But when she clings too tightly, he pulls away, eyes cold, lips twisted in annoyance. “Don’t make this ugly, Selis.” Her face crumples, and she storms off, shoulders shaking.

Drevik waits outside, lean frame folded against the railing, grease-stained hands shoved in jacket pockets. Kavi approaches him, steps uncertain, clutching her arms tight. Their eyes meet and linger. “Rough morning?” he asks, voice low, carrying more care than he’d ever admit. She shrugs, but her defiance crumbles when he notices the fresh cut above her wrist.

Without a word, Drevik pulls out a battered handkerchief and wraps it around her arm, hands gentle, eyes never leaving hers. The touch is careful, reverent. Kavi’s breathing stutters. “I wish I could just… disappear sometimes,” she says, voice barely there. Drevik’s thumb smooths over her knuckles, heat flaring between them—not quite touch, not quite restraint. “Don’t,” he says simply. “You’re here. I see you.”

She lets herself lean into him, for once not fighting to be noticed. For a moment, the storm inside her stills.

Inside, Selis’s composure erupts. She slams her fists against the bathroom sink, tears streaking down her flushed cheeks, voice hoarse as she sobs, “I won’t lose him. I can’t.” Mirael stands just outside, phone raised, recording the breakdown. Her smile is gone—replaced by something sharp, wolfish, victorious.

To be continued...