“The lab.” She huffs, shaking her head. “Works too hard, that one. We got a big order for Canadians. Good timing, though. We just moved the main op to bigger premises. I was about to look for another girl to take your place.”

I frown. I was gone six weeks. Before I left, we could barely make a decision on how the lab should be arranged, and suddenly, they’re moving to a bigger facility? When we didn’t have supplies? “So you managed to fix the machine?”

“Yeah, of course.” Deedee gives me the universal “why wouldn’t we” look.

“What happened to the stolen stock?”

The guy with the piercing snorts, taking a drag of his cigarette. I drop my hand onto Ordus’ lap when he starts growling like a guard dog. He stops the second I touch him. I don’t want my dinner flavored with entrails.

Deedee waves her hand dismissively, not missing the mistaken show of PDA. “I told you; it was all a nonissue.”

My lips flatten into a straight line, and I try not to glower. “It clearly was an issue. Those supplies cost us⁠—”

I silence myself and mutter a quick thanks to the woman delivering my food. I cast a nervous glance at Ordus, who’s looking at the plate like it’s a pile of the worst possible thing known to man. His face is warped, like everything about dinner nauseates him.

His hand stops midair above the slice of pork. “Are you sure you want to eat?” I interrupt. It’d be rude not to eat it, but it would be far ruder if Ordus starts retching in the middle of the store. “You had an upset stomach earlier. Maybe we get you something lighter and take this to go?”

Ordus’ shoulders sag in relief, and he immediately goes back to staring down the men and watching the street while Deedee studies him with rapt fascination. It’s kinda irrationally pissing me off.

It can’t be jealousy. I’m not the jealous type. I mean, Ordus can see whomever he wants. It just makes me sick picturing them hanging out—or with anyone else, for that matter. Blind with rage, imagining him fucking her with his tentacles like he did to me…

Ordus drops his hand on top of mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze before caressing the soft skin there like he’s saying he’s mine, marriage or not.

I blow out a breath, trying to calm down. Deedee waves down the waitress to pack away his share into a container, and I quickly surveil the streets for anyone who might look like someone I recognize.

“You don’t need to worry about any of it. I’ve got it taken care of.” Deedee fiddles with her bracelet, and the smile she gives me doesn’t reach her eyes.

I force food into my mouth, chewing without tasting.

“So tell me: where’ve you been? We were so worried. I tried looking for you everywhere, but you went completely off the radar. I thought it might have been because of the whispers of the American looking for you.”

The temperature plummets. I drop my spoon. “What American?”

“Don’t know.” Deedee brings the cigarette to her lips and inhales deeply. Tendrils of grey twirl from the glowing ember. Plumes of the putrid smoke blow beside my head and stick between the strands of my hair. “One of my contacts said there was a guy going around, offering money in exchange for a woman. He mentioned your—you know—your name. Had a photo too.”

I stop breathing. My name? Photo? It must be the same person Ordus smelled at my cabin over a month ago.

They’ve found me. I need to get out of here. Now. The very first place that crosses my mind is Saelim Island, and despite the threat of other krakens, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

“What—what did he look like?” My voice cracks as I press.

Deedee shrugs. “Based on what I heard, like a bule.”

Like a Westerner. That doesn’t narrow down anything.

“And what did your contact tell them?” I want to slap the table so maybe she gets how fucking serious this is.

She shakes her head like this is no big deal. “He’s never met you, so he didn’t say anything. Just told me about it.” Her phone lights up with a notification, and she jumps to her feet. Ordus and I do the same. “Shit. I’m so sorry. I need to go.”

Wait. No. I want to insist she stay so I can interrogate her for information. When did they ask? Are they still here? Who’s your contact? How many men were with him? Did he leave a number? Did they say anything else?

Deedee taps her phone screen again, and she gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Where are you staying? I’ll meet you at yours so we can talk for longer.”

My pulse jumps, and I cast a nervous glance at the men going up to pay at the counter. “I’m not giving out my location. Just in case, you know. It’s not that I don’t trust you, I⁠—”

She stops me with a shake of her head. “I get it.”

I lower my voice, trying to inject every ounce of my fear and desperation. “We need passports. As soon as possible.”

The men she was eating with wait for her on the sidewalk, splitting their attention between me and Ordus. I subconsciously inch toward him, using the kraken as a barrier.

Deedee walks backward, giving me a noncommittal nod with the same blasé attitude she gives to everything that frustrates me to no end. “Call me, okay? We’ll sort it. Everything’s going to be fine.”

I don’t answer. Even if I wanted to, she already turned away, typing furiously at her phone.

Ordus and I watch her walk down the street with her entourage until she’s out of view. Cold sweat trickles down my spine. To hell with my four hours, I want to go right the fuck now. But I can’t hide out on the island and wait for the heat to die down when there’s heat on the goddamn island as well.

“I do not like her,” Ordus says, stirring me out of my thoughts. I drop onto the bench, realizing we’re still awkwardly standing in the middle of the restaurant. I tug him down. “She touched you and made you unhappy.”

He’ll need to be specific about which instance he’s referring to: the hug, the not-jealousy, that my demons are here, or all of the above.

“I don’t trust her or her men,” he continues.

I shake my head, staring at the barely touched plate in front of me. I’ve lost my appetite. Without a word, the waitress boxes up my meal after I point to Ordus’ Styrofoam container, then my plate.

“Deedee’s my friend,” I tell Ordus, tapping the table as I wait for the clerk to return. Is she my friend, though? Would friends wave off every concern the other person has?

“She smells wrong.” We sit in silence for a moment. “The American is your dead husband’s people?” He frames it like a question when he already knows the answer.

My throat is closed tight. I can’t speak. The walls are closing in, and I’m on a sinking ship with a life raft being held together by duct tape.

We stay on the mainland, we die.

We stay on the island, we die.

We leave the mainland and abandon Vasz, and we all die.

We’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, and the glass floor we’re standing on is cracking.

“Let’s go home,” I whisper, swallowing down the panic.

Ordus watches me intently with both joy and…shock? I replay what I said.

Home.

I blink, chewing over the word, but it never ends up tasting wrong. Saelim Island is my home. That realization hits me square in the chest. I…I don’t want the past month and a bit of my life to be temporary.

Ordus takes the plastic bag with our food from the waitress, then grabs our waterproof pack and pulls me right up against him, leading us toward the beach. It’s not making my nerves any better, but knowing we’re getting out of here isn’t making it any worse either.

I’m surrounded by ticking time bombs from all sides, and the only thing I’m certain of is that I don’t want to deal with it alone. If I could choose anyone, I’d choose Ordus.

Still, it doesn’t stop my racing pulse or my short breaths. I’m not any closer to being anywhere as delusionally carefree as I was all the times I was surfing on the island, blissfully ignorant to the fact krakens are dying and they want to eat me.