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My eyes open slowly, heavy, as if I’m trying to emerge from a deep lake. My head throbs, my mouth is dry, and for a few seconds I can’t tell what is dream and what is reality. There is a constant movement beneath my body, a slow sway that doesn’t match the bed where I’m lying.
The air smells of salt, polished wood, and expensive perfume.
I try to turn over, but a sharp pain in my wrists makes me hold my breath.
I pull my arms by instinct.
I can’t move them.
I look down and see black silk ropes binding my wrists to the headboard of a king-size bed. The material looks soft, but it’s tight enough to prevent any broader movement. My fingers tingle, and the pressure around my wrists increases when I try to free myself.
My heart begins to beat faster.
I scan the room, looking for some explanation for this absurd situation. The suite is huge, luxurious, with dark wood furniture, golden lighting, and open curtains in front of panoramic windows. On the other side of the glass, there are no streets, buildings, or any sign of a city.
Only the ocean.
The horizon seems endless, and the waves leave trails of foam against the vessel’s hull.
I’m on a ship.
On the open sea.
And I’m not here by my own choice.
The realization hits me so hard that, for an instant, I forget to breathe. I try to sit up, but the ropes stop me. The movement makes the headboard creak, and the sound seems too loud in the silence of the suite.
“Finally awake, princess.”
The male voice comes from the other side of the room.
I turn my head quickly.
Zion is sitting in a leather armchair, elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped in front of him. The scar above his left eyebrow stands out under the lamp light. His black eyes are fixed on me, too attentive, as if he were waiting for the exact moment I would realize where I was.
There is no surprise on his face.
No concern for my state.
Only the irritating calm of someone who believes everything happened as planned.
“Zion?”
My voice comes out hoarse.
He raises an eyebrow.
“Did you miss me?”
Disbelief gives way to anger.
“What did you do?”
Before he answers, I notice Luka leaning against the dresser, arms crossed over his chest. His honey-colored hair is messy, and his heterochromatic eyes follow my every movement. One crystalline blue. The other brown, warm and intense.
Near the door, Elias remains motionless.
His white shirt is impeccable, sleeves folded to his forearms. His expression is closed, and his dark brown gaze doesn’t leave my face long enough for me to forget his presence.
The three of them.
Of course it’s the three of them.
For a second, my mind tries to find another explanation. Maybe I’m dreaming. Maybe I’ve had an accident. Maybe there’s a perfectly logical reason for me to be tied up in a luxury suite, surrounded by the three men I spent years trying to keep out of my life.
But Zion’s expression kills that hope.
They did this.
“Untie me,” I order.
None of the three moves.
I pull at the ropes again, this time so hard I feel my skin burn.
“I said untie me!”
Zion stands without haste. He walks to the bed, stops beside it, and observes my wrists before looking at my face again.
“No.”
The answer is so simple that I almost don’t believe what I heard.
“What do you mean, no?”
“You heard me.”
I let out an incredulous laugh.
“Have you all completely lost your minds?”
“Maybe,” Zion answers. “But we weren’t the ones who spent five years running from any conversation.”
“Conversation?” I repeat, feeling anger grow. “You call this a conversation? Tying me to a bed and bringing me to the middle of the ocean?”
Luka uncrosses his arms and takes a few steps closer.
“You didn’t leave us many alternatives.”
I turn my face toward him.
“Don’t tell me it’s my fault.”
“I’m not saying that.”
“You are. You always do the same thing. You make a decision, ignore everything I say, and then invent a justification to pretend you had no choice.”
Luka opens his mouth, but doesn’t answer immediately.
I know that silence. He’s organizing his arguments, looking for the most efficient way to turn an absurd decision into something that seems inevitable.
He was always good at that.
“You were avoiding any contact with us,” he says finally. “You didn’t answer messages, you changed addresses, and you found ways to keep us from knowing where you were. The situation became unsustainable.”
“For you.”
“For all of us.”
“No. For you. Because I was managing to live my life without having to answer to three men who believe they have the right to control everything around them.”
Elias moves away from the door.
“Maeve, we need to talk.”
I look at him and then at the ropes.
“Then start by untying me.”
He doesn’t answer.
That lack of response tells me more than any threat could.
I run my tongue over my dry lips and try to organize my thoughts. My head is still heavy, and there’s a gap in my memories. I remember the pier, the movement of people, mixed voices, and a strange sensation that took over my body. After that, everything became confused.
“What did you give me?” I ask, staring at Luka. “I was at the pier. I remember being at the pier. What happened after that?”
Luka doesn’t look away.
“You were agitated. We needed to keep the situation from getting out of control.”
“You drugged me?”
He takes a deep breath.
“I gave you something to sleep during the trip.”
For a moment, I can’t speak.
The answer seems too simple for the gravity of what it means. He admits to giving me some substance without my consent as if he were explaining that he had to offer me medicine for a headache.
“You had no right.”
“I know you’re angry.”
“No. You don’t know.”
My voice trembles, but not from fear. It’s the indignation threatening to make me lose control.
“You have no idea what I’m feeling right now. You don’t know what it’s like to wake up not knowing where you are, realize someone took off your clothes, find out you’re trapped, and look around to find three people who should know you better than anyone.”
Luka lowers his eyes for an instant.
Zion, by contrast, remains steady.
“You can hate us for this. We don’t expect you to thank us.”
“How generous.”
“But we won’t pretend your absence had no consequences.”
The word absence hits me unexpectedly.
I think of all the messages I ignored, the calls I let ring until they stopped, the times I had to change my plans because someone had found an address. I also think of the reasons that led me to do all that.
They know part of the story.
They don’t know everything.
And I won’t reveal anything while I’m tied to a bed, without knowing where I am or what they intend to do with me.
“Where is Matthew?”
The question comes out before I can contain the urgency.
The three fall silent for a fraction of a second.
It’s a short time, but enough for my stomach to clench.
“Where is my son?” I repeat, louder.
Zion sits on the edge of the bed, keeping a distance that doesn’t lessen my distrust.
“Matthew is with Evie and Claire.”
“I want to talk to him.”
“He’s safe.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Elias finally answers:
“There are trusted people with them. The house is protected. No one will get near Matthew without us knowing.”
“And who protects my son from you?”
The question causes a heavy silence.
For an instant, I notice something different on Elias’s face. Not exactly surprise, but the recognition that, to me, their presence doesn’t necessarily mean safety.
That should be obvious.
They may be capable of protecting Matthew from any external threat, but they have just shown that they are also capable of crossing my boundaries when they decide they know what’s best for me.
“Don’t involve my son in this,” I say, lower. “He’s not to blame for the problems between us.”
“Matthew isn’t the problem,” Luka states. “He never was.”
“Then let me go to him.”
“Not yet,” Zion answers.
I close my eyes for an instant.
I need to control my breathing. I need to keep the fear for Matthew from turning into panic. I can’t let them see how vulnerable this situation makes me.
When I open my eyes again, I observe the room more carefully.
The door is a few meters from the bed. Elias is near it. The window is wide, but the sea outside makes any escape attempt unthinkable. There is a table beside the armchair, a bottle of water, and a phone I can’t identify from a distance.
There’s no obvious exit.
That doesn’t mean one doesn’t exist.
I need to find out how their routine works, who is on guard, and how much time we have until the ship docks. I need to know the route. I need to get my phone back. And, above all, I need to confirm that Matthew is really okay.
“If you want to talk,” I say, looking at Zion again, “you’ll need to start acting like people capable of hearing an answer they don’t like.”
He tilts his head.
“And if your answer continues to be running away?”
“Then you’ll have to accept that I don’t want to stay.”
His jaw tightens.
For a few seconds, neither of us speaks. The ship’s sway continues, soft and constant, and the sound of the engines seems to fill all the space between us.
Zion finally stands.
“Let’s give you some time to calm down.”
“I don’t need to calm down. I need you to untie me.”
He ignores the demand and walks to the door.
Luka picks up the glass he left on the dresser. Elias is the last to move, but stops before leaving.
“If you need anything, call,” he says.
I look at my wrists.
“I need my freedom.”
He holds my gaze for an instant, as if he wants to answer. In the end, he just leaves.
The door closes.
The click of the lock sounds final.
I stay motionless for a few seconds, listening to the footsteps disappear down the corridor. Only when I’m sure I’m alone do I pull at the ropes again, this time carefully. I try to understand the knot, test the slack, and find some point that might give way.
Nothing.
The silk remains firm.
My skin burns, my shoulders ache, and my head still feels full of fog. I stop before I hurt myself more.
Then I look at the ocean.
I don’t know how long it will take until the ship reaches its destination. I don’t know what Zion, Luka, and Elias have planned for the next few days. I don’t know if they really kept their promise to keep Matthew safe.
But I know one thing.
They believe they’ve brought me to a place where they can finally demand answers.
They didn’t understand that my silence isn’t a game.
I spent years trying to survive things they can’t even imagine. I kept secrets because I believed they were the only way to protect my son and myself. And even though today I’m trapped, none of that has disappeared.
I may not have an escape route yet.
I may not know who to trust.
But I’m still Maeve.
And they’re going to find out that keeping me inside a suite is very different from making me give up on myself.
Because when that door opens again, I don’t intend to be closer to surrender.
I intend to be closer to an exit.
