The walk toward the detached tail unit was tense, the black volcanic sand crunching under their feet like broken glass.

Ren watched Cilian’s back, noticing how the Alpha’s muscles were coiled tight beneath the thin fabric of the village robe. The playful, predatory fox from the morning had been replaced by something far more clinical, though that unsettling smirk never quite left his lips.

Captain Harris led them toward a mangled heap of white and navy-blue metal half-buried in the dunes.

The smell of scorched wiring and hydraulic fluid still clung to the wreckage, a sharp contrast to the sweet jasmine scent still faintly lingering in Ren’s hair.

"Here, sir," Harris said, kneeling by a cracked maintenance panel.

A small green light flickered weakly on a console, proof that the auxiliary power was still holding. He handed a headset to Cilian.

"I’ve been cycling through the emergency frequencies. I get a carrier wave—the hardware is transmitting—but no one is breaking the squelch."

Cilian took the headset with a steady hand. He pressed it to one ear, his eyes going distant as he listened. Ren held his breath.

Beside him, Kaelo was poking at a piece of the ’silver bird’s skin’ with a stick, still muttering about the cannibalism insult, but Ren could only focus on the silence.

Every second without a response was another second he was tied to Cilian. Another second, the 10% of his mind still fighting the nectar had to struggle.

Cilian’s thumb moved over the frequency dial, slowly. The static was audible even to Ren—a harsh, white-noise hiss that sounded like the ghost of the storm that had downed them.

"This is Cilian Vane," Cilian said into the mouthpiece, his voice cold and terrifyingly calm. "Authorization Alpha-Nine-Omega. Respond."

Nothing. Just the hiss of the ocean and the crackle of the radio.

"Respond," Cilian repeated, his grip on the headset tightening until his knuckles turned white.

After a minute of agonizing silence, Cilian slowly pulled the headset away. He didn’t look frustrated; he looked dangerous. He turned his gaze toward the horizon, his gold-brown eyes narrowed.

"The signal isn’t being blocked," Cilian murmured, more to himself than to them. "The transponder is clear. The sky is open."

"Then why aren’t they answering?" Ren asked, his voice a fractured whisper. "Cilian, if your family... the Vanes... if they know where we are... why are they leaving us here?"

Cilian finally looked at him. For a split second, the mask slipped, and Ren saw a flash of cold, calculating fury. As the new head of the Vane family, there shouldn’t be anyone capable of ignoring his signal—unless the Syndicate elders were finally making their move.

Then, the mask clicked back into place. Cilian offered a small, crooked smile that was far too sharp for the situation.

"Maybe the elders decided I needed a long-overdue vacation, Ren," Cilian remarked, his tone light but his eyes like flint. "Or perhaps someone convinced my lieutenants that I’ve finally joined the ancestors. It’s hard to hear a radio from six feet under, isn’t it?"

"Cilian, this isn’t a joke," Ren snapped, his heart racing. "If they aren’t coming..."

"Then I suppose we’ll just have to make the most of the local hospitality," Cilian replied with a playful wink that made Ren’s stomach do a nervous somersault. He turned his gaze back to Harris. "But it’s curious, Harris. You survived with a ’spare’ parachute. You have a working radio. And yet, here we are. Still lost. Who exactly are you waiting for, if not me?"

Harris flinched under the weight of Cilian’s stare. "Sir, I—I’ve been calling! I swear!"

"I’m sure you have, Captain," Cilian said, stepping closer to the pilot. "But you know what they say about secrets on an island—they have a way of washing up on the shore."

Cilian turned back to Ren, reaching out to brush a stray hair behind Ren’s ear. His touch was possessive, almost mocking in its tenderness.

"Well, Ren," Cilian whispered, leaning in so only Ren could hear him. "It looks like our ’honeymoon’ might be a bit longer than I planned. I hope you aren’t too disappointed. We still have so much ’work’ to do for the village spirit. Think of it as a forced extension of our marital bliss."

Ren slapped his hand away, his eyes burning. "You’re enjoying this. You’re actually enjoying being trapped here with me while your empire is likely being torn apart."

"The empire can be rebuilt, darling," Cilian chuckled, the sound dark and triumphant. "But a private island with a beautiful, screaming bride? That’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Besides, as long as I have you, I’m still the king of something."

Ren hated it. He clenched his fists tight, the screaming urge to knock out Cilian’s teeth pushing him, but he couldn’t do a damn thing.

They were stuck, and his worst fear, of getting pregnant, still lingered in his mind. What was he going to do?

"Let’s head back," Cilian said and then turned to the pilot. "Captain Harris, you can stay here and try to get the signal working. If you’re cold and need a blanket, you can come to the village, though," his lips curved a little mocking sneer. "I don’t think they’ll appreciate lending a blanket to someone who called them cannibals."

Kaelo immediately folded his arms and turned his face away.

"Hmph!"

"I... I’ll stay here." He said. "I’ll try to get a response, and there’s plenty of fish in the water, so I can get food there."

Cilian nodded and then wrapped his arm around Ren’s waist.

"Let’s get going, Darling."

Ren pushed his face away, annoyed. This nightmare seemed to be going on for longer than it should.

He looked at the black sand and felt the weight of the nectar in his system again. He wasn’t just Cilian’s prisoner anymore. He was becoming his entire world, while the one they left behind was fading into static.

Just as they were about to head back, the pilot called out to Kaelo.

"Excuse me," Kaelo said, looking at him. "I would really like to apologize for earlier. I really..." he brushed his hand behind his neck, nervous and very apologetic. "... Really apologize for calling you cannibals. I’m sorry."

Cilian felt this was none of their business and pulled Ren away.

"Come on, Ren. Let’s go. I want to take a stroll with just the two of us," Cilian said, still leaning his head over, and Ren gritted his teeth.

"Get your face away from me," he hissed.

They left, leaving the two to their space.

Kaelo looked at him. He twisted his lips, still annoyed, but when he looked at the pilot’s sincere expression, he thought,

’This guy is kind of handsome.’

He had black hair, smooth skin, and eyes that seemed sharp and vulnerable at the same time, also knowing when to sincerely apologize for his mistake.

He wasn’t just handsome, he was husband material.

Well, it’s not every day they get a stranger in the village, so he guessed he could forgive him and keep his mouth shut about it.

"Alright, I’ll forgive you, but..." he inched closer and suddenly asked, "...do you have a bride from where you came from?"

The pilot stiffened.

"What?"