But none are nearly as big as Ordus. A few are my size—one male who’s at least a foot shorter than me, with a face weathered with age.

The females are differentiated from the males by the small lumps on their chests and the—dare I use this word—softer, more feminine faces. Although, their build isn’t impacted by sex. They can be as big and burly or as small as the males.

One woman at the very back of the congregation has a protective hand over her rounded stomach, pressing herself to a male’s side every time Ordus speaks. She flicks her sunken eyes between me, Ordus, and the lanky kraken who keeps talking. It doesn’t land on Ordus and I with hatred. The same goes with the male beside her.

It’s fear.

Not of Ordus, but for themselves. For the life growing in her.

Even from this distance, I can count her ribs poking out against her baby belly. The edges of her bones stick out against her taut, pale skin. My heart aches as I study each bony finger and deep ridge of her collarbones. I may not be familiar with kraken biology and anatomy, but there’s no way she has enough meat on her to be carrying a baby. It can’t be healthy. It must be a miracle she was able to conceive, let alone carry the child this far along.

None of the krakens here look like they’re well-fed. All of them have the same exhaustion written over their gaunt faces, with bodies that consist of more skin than flesh. The evidence of their starvation is clear in their emaciation.

Yet Ordus looks like he spends three hours at the gym each day, hits his protein goals, and meets the necessary sleeping requirements. He couldn’t be more different from his subjects even if he tried.

Is this…is this my fault? These people—monsters—will die because of me? My selfishness.

I glance at the pregnant kraken. Oh, God. There would be children as well. Kids, little babies, would be dying because I can’t say yes to Ordus. I’m so in my own head over what I want to do with my life when there are people who want me dead and people who will die.

An entire species has been turning to flesh and bone while I’ve been playing fucking house, caring for chickens and tending to a garden on an island in the middle of nowhere. And what else have I been doing? Complaining I haven’t been getting enough attention, that I want to go back to the mainland when I don’t at the same time. Worrying about a marriage proposal that isn’t being forced upon me.

This is too much.

There’s no way I’m supposed to save them when I can’t save myself.

I make eye contact with one of the women off to the side. My cheeks burn. It’s hard to look at any of the women when their nipples are pointed right at me with not an ounce of shame. It’s even harder to stare at any of the men when they’re looking a lot like the Gallaghers.

I drop my gaze, which was a big fucking mistake. Bile lurches up my throat at the empty eyes staring back at me. A lone head bobbing in and out of the beach floats along with the waves. Dark blue ink seeps from the hole into the water, washing out into the sea—the same ink splattered over Ordus and smeared across my skin from his tentacles.

My breathing comes out in shudders. Oh, God.

I think I’m going to puke.

Movement from the crowd stops me from losing it to hysteria. The talkative kraken turns, and the others follow suit. A few grab their fallen friends and the severed head. The talkative one throws one last barbed comment before diving beneath the waves.

I can’t move a muscle, frozen even when the only creatures in sight are Ordus and a growling Vasz. Dread seeps into my bloodstream, poisoning me until the fear leaks from my pores.

He’s going to force me to marry him.

He’s going to force himself on⁠—

No. No.

I can’t live like that again. I won’t do it. I refuse.

A hand clamps over my mouth. I scream, kick out, thrash my entire body against the tentacle tightening around me. We’re flying through the island, between the thickets of palm trees and shrubs, heading west toward the tunnel into the den.

He’s really going to do it. He said I had to be willing. He lied to me. Ordus lied, and he’s going to prove my fears true. He’s just like Tommy, manipulative and violent. They take, take, take, even if I don’t want to give.

I let my guard down. It crumbled to the fucking floor, and I spread my legs and let it happen. I let him in without remorse, and now, he wants to sink in his teeth.

I’m so stupid.

It’s happening again.

I didn’t learn the first time.

“Calm yourself, Cindi,” Ordus growls against my ear.

Angry, frightened, hot tears spring from my eyes and trickle onto fingers muffling my cries for help. My reality turns bleaker with every tree we pass, descending deeper into the island.

No one’s coming to save me. No one ever does. Not anymore.

Vasz is barking and nipping at Ordus, but what can a shark-dog do? He can’t get me out of here or keep me fed. He won’t be able to fend off a kraken at least quadruple his size.

Kristy died a long time ago. I should’ve begun digging Cindi’s grave the moment I stepped foot in Indonesia.

Ordus is going to kill me the same way Tommy did, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

The cave entrance glimmers under Ordus’ command. He lunges for it. Vasz sprints back toward the shack to get to the tunnels. His hand leaves my mouth, and I suck in a breath. A chorus of “no, please,” and “don’t” fall from me. My cries and pleas echo through the dark tunnel. I angle my head toward the light, reaching for it. It’ll be last time I see the sun.

I’m being taken into the basement again. This time, I won’t be let out.

No one will check on me. There will be no escape, no solace, nothing but a monster who will take his pound of flesh.

“Please, Cindi,” Ordus rasps, rubbing his hand all over my back and arms in a move that’s too reassuring for the fate I’m about to endure. “Please.”

I whip my head side to side. “You can’t. I won’t let you. Please, don’t do it.”

We make it out the bottom of the tunnel faster than we ever have. Panic shreds me to pieces, frozen and scorching. My vision is blurry from the tears, voice raw from screaming.

I got out. I was free. I was surviving.

Ordus turns me to face him, cupping my cheeks in his big hands. “Listen to me.”

Black hair morphs to blond, brown skin to white. It’s Tommy, back from the dead to haunt me, lips twisted into a crooked smile—the type that promises a world of pain.

Logic and reason escapes me. I can’t summon the image of Tommy lying dead on the floor, because he’s here right in front of me, touching me.

“Please. I will not hurt you.”

Tommy can’t purr. He doesn’t have tentacles. He doesn’t live in a cave with bioluminescent algae. He doesn’t give reassurances or promises not to cause me harm. But it doesn’t matter how loud I scream it in my head—I can’t escape.

I choke on the memories. The feel of the silk sheets against my cheeks as Tommy pushes me down and yanks my skirt up around my waist. Tommy’s rough, calloused palms that grate against my cheek followed by the smack.

The man before me grabs my hand and places it over his heart. I struggle against him. I don’t want to touch him, but there’s no getting away.

The rumbling in his chest grows louder than the blood roaring in my ears. His pulse is erratic beneath my hand, and I’m only vaguely aware of the suckers pulsing hard against my flesh. I screw my eyes shut, trying to push everything out of my mind and focus on the feeling, on the vibrations coming from him, because tentacles don’t hurt. They never hurt.

“Kristy,” he begs, tentacles holding my thrashing arms still. “You are safe.”

“That’s not my name.” I gasp for breath. It’s not. She’s dead. She doesn’t exist anymore.