The world was silent when Lydia opened her eyes—too silent.
She gasped, sitting upright, water dripping from her hair and clothes. She was lying on an old couch in a dimly lit shack. Her body ached all over, and the faint sound of waves whispered outside. Her mind raced, searching through fragments of memory—the explosion, the fire, Jaden's voice shouting her name… and then the black water swallowing her whole.
"Where… am I?" she whispered.
A man's voice answered from the doorway. "Safe. For now."
Lydia turned sharply. A tall man stood there, maybe in his forties, rugged, with a scar along his jaw and eyes that looked like they'd seen too much. He stepped closer, his boots echoing against the wooden floor.
"Who are you?" Lydia demanded.
"Name's Cole," he said, tossing her a towel. "Fisherman. Found you washed up on the southern docks, half-conscious. Thought you were dead."
She took the towel slowly, still trembling. "How long have I been here?"
"Two days," he said. "You kept mumbling a name in your sleep—Jaden."
Her heart twisted.
"Did anyone else come out of the water?" she asked quickly. "A man, maybe injured, dark hair—"
Cole shook his head. "You were alone."
Lydia's breath caught in her throat. Alone.
Her chest felt hollow, like someone had carved out everything inside her. She pressed a trembling hand to her lips. "No… no, he can't be—"
Cole's gaze softened a little. "I'm sorry."
For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of rain pattering on the roof. Lydia stared at the small oil lamp beside her, its flame flickering weakly, mirroring the uncertainty clawing at her heart. Jaden couldn't be gone. Not like that. Not after everything.
She looked up suddenly. "I need to go back."
Cole frowned. "That area's crawling with armed men. Whole pier's sealed off. Whoever you're running from— they've got power."
Lydia's hands curled into fists. "Then I'll find another way."
He hesitated, then sighed. "You've got fire, I'll give you that. But running headfirst into death won't bring him back."
She turned away, her jaw tight. "You don't understand."
Cole paused at the door, studying her. "Maybe not. But I know what it's like to lose someone to the wrong kind of people." He tossed her a small, worn jacket. "Storm's clearing. If you really want to go, wait till dawn."
When he left, Lydia sat back on the couch, her mind spiraling.
Jaden's mother. Cassandra.
The way she'd spoken, the look in her eyes—it wasn't just control, it was ownership. And if Jaden was really her son, that meant everything Lydia had believed about him was only half the truth.
But even so… she couldn't shake the memory of his voice. The way he'd looked at her, desperate, broken, when he'd said I can't lose you.
No matter how twisted his past was, she knew that love had been real.
By dawn, she was gone.
---
The morning sun rose weakly over the ruins of the old pier. Smoke still rose from the ashes where the warehouse once stood. Lydia picked her way through the debris, her boots crunching on shards of glass and burnt wood. The air smelled of salt, metal, and something darker—loss.
She found the edge of the dock where Jaden had stood. The railing was twisted from the blast, and the boards were charred black. A torn piece of fabric—his jacket—clung to one of the nails.
Lydia sank to her knees, clutching it to her chest.
"Please," she whispered, tears blurring her vision. "Don't be gone."
Behind her, a voice broke the silence.
"Lydia?"
She froze.
That voice. Rough, tired—but alive.
Slowly, she turned.
Jaden stood a few feet away, bloodied and limping, his shirt half torn, soot on his face. His eyes met hers—those familiar storm-gray eyes—and for a moment, everything else disappeared. The air, the pain, the fire—all gone.
She ran to him. He caught her, pulling her into his arms, holding her like she was the only thing keeping him upright. She could feel his heartbeat, weak but steady against her cheek.
"I thought I lost you," she sobbed.
"I thought I'd lost you too," he whispered, his voice breaking.
They stood there, clinging to each other in the wreckage, the sea wind cold around them. But the moment didn't last long—because from the corner of her eye, Lydia saw a glint of metal.
"Jaden!" she screamed.
He spun just as a bullet tore through the air, grazing his arm. He pulled Lydia down behind a fallen beam. A black SUV had pulled up by the far road—Cassandra's men. Three of them, armed.
"Go!" Jaden hissed. "Run!"
"I'm not leaving you again!"
"Lydia, please—this time you have to trust me."
Her heart pounded. The pain in his voice was enough to make her freeze. He pressed a small device into her palm—a black USB drive, slick with his blood.
"What is this?"
"Proof," he said, grimacing. "Everything. The truth about my mother, the company—everything she's done. If something happens to me—"
"Don't say that!" she cried.
He cupped her face, his thumb brushing away her tears. "You were the only real thing I ever had, Lydia. Promise me you'll survive this."
Before she could answer, more gunfire shattered the air. Jaden pushed her toward a side path, shielding her as they ran. The roar of engines followed them, echoing across the empty docks.
They reached a narrow passage between two old containers. Jaden turned, firing a warning shot toward their pursuers. "Go!"
"No—"
"Now!" he shouted.
Lydia hesitated for a split second—then ran. She didn't look back, not until she reached the far end of the street. When she finally did, she saw Jaden standing in the open, his gun raised, buying her time as the black SUV screeched closer.
"Jaden!" she screamed.
The vehicle slammed into him, knocking him out of sight.
Lydia fell to her knees, the scream tearing from her throat raw and broken. The USB drive slipped from her fingers, clattering against the pavement.
The world spun. Sirens echoed in the distance.
And through her tears, she whispered his name again and again—like maybe, somehow, saying it would bring him back.