MY CRUEL PROTECTOR
POV RUBY
The Siren’s Wake cut through the choppy black waters of the Irish Sea like a blade. Behind us, the fiery orange glow of the Docklands was nothing more than a bleeding scar on the horizon. The roar of the engine was a constant, low-frequency thrum that vibrated through the floorboards and up into my very bones. Silas was at the helm, his silhouette a grim statue against the spray-flecked glass of the cabin, leaving Nevan and me alone in the cramped, dimly lit quarters below deck.