The yacht glided smoothly across the ocean.
The doctor carefully tended to the cuts on Sophia's legs.
The sharp scent of antiseptic filled the air.
Sophia frowned slightly as she watched the doctor work.
Most of her injuries were bruises, but two deep gashes marred her legs.
Ethan lay on another bed nearby, his wounds requiring more attention.
The gunshot wound on his shoulder had become inflamed, needing thorough cleaning.
Beads of sweat dotted the doctor's forehead.
"Mr. Sullivan, Miss Sullivan," the doctor said respectfully after finishing the bandaging, "the wounds were exposed to seawater and forest miasma. Though disinfected, complications may still arise. Call me immediately if anything seems amiss."
Sophia gave a slight nod. "Thank you."
The doctor exited with his medical kit, leaving the two alone.
Ethan's dark eyes settled on Sophia, his voice low. "It seems you've angered dangerous people."
Sophia arched a brow. "Are you implying something?"
She sighed, feigning nonchalance. "The mafia does as they please. Who knows why they targeted me?"
Her tone was deliberately careless.
"Chris mentioned they wanted something from you," she continued. "Maybe mistaken identity, or they just wanted ransom money."
The excuses were flimsy at best.
Sophia knew Ethan wouldn't buy it.
But she couldn't reveal her ties to the hacker world or her history with the mafia.
So she lied outright, unapologetically.
Ethan wasn't one to pry.
Even if he investigated, he'd find no traces.
His gaze darkened imperceptibly.
She was still keeping secrets.
Still refusing to trust him.
A storm brewed beneath his calm exterior.
"Perhaps it was just about ransom," Ethan agreed mildly, letting it go.
Then his voice turned icy. "They died too easily."
A restrained lethality radiated from him, barely detectable.
Sophia, attuned to emotions, immediately recalled The Decagon's files.
Ethan's brother—Emma's father—had been killed by the Italian mafia.
Blood debt lay between them.
Sophia changed the subject.
Her eyes lingered on Ethan's bandaged wound.
Even properly dressed, it looked severe.
She remembered him rushing across continents to save her.
Drawing enemy fire without hesitation.
Three guards at the docks, but dozens armed in the forest.
One misstep could have been fatal.
"You didn't need to come personally," Sophia said softly. "You could've just sent the police after I shared my location."
She'd asked this before.
Back then, Ethan had said it was because they were friends.
The memory still unsettled her.
She never dwelled on the past.
Yet here she was, asking again.
Perhaps because she'd always fought alone, unused to having someone at her side.
Ethan met her gaze, his eyes fathomless. "I don't know why either."
He paused, voice dropping lower. "Maybe I just couldn't bear the thought of you dying..."
Sophia's brows knit slightly.
The words carried weight.
Before she could respond, Ethan lowered his lashes.
"I keep my promises," he said evenly. "I swore to teach you my grandmother's perfuming techniques. If you died, wouldn't that make me a liar?"
That made sense.
Sophia relaxed marginally.
But then Ethan asked abruptly, "You could've escaped alone on the boat. Why risk using explosives?"
His piercing gaze held hers, stars burning within.
"We could've both been blown to pieces."
Sophia's heart skipped a beat.