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Twenty minutes later, we’re standing at the marina, the salt-tinged air cool against our skin, the water whispering secrets in the fading light.Aoife’s eyes narrow as I lead her toward a private dock, the water lapping gently against the boats moored there.

"What is this?"she asks, her voice wary.

I smile as I step onto the deck of the sleek yacht, the polished surface gleaming under the last golden light of the day."This,mo chroí, is the Eclipsed Serenity."

She hesitates at the edge of the dock."This is yours?"

I extend a hand, watching as she eyes it suspiciously before finally stepping onto the deck.She moves cautiously, her steps measured, testing the yacht’s stability beneath her feet.The faintest frown tugs at her lips as she glances around, taking in the pristine deck, the soft glow of recessed lighting coming to life as the sun sinks lower on the horizon.

She lets out a breath of disbelief, trailing her fingers along the edge of the built-in bar.“How many bodies have been dumped off this thing?”

"You wound me,mo chroí," I say, pressing a hand to my chest in mock offense.

"Do I?"she murmurs, glancing at me from beneath her lashes, the ghost of a challenge lurking behind her words.

There’s a challenge in her voice, one that sparks a slow grin across my face.

I don't answer.

Instead, I pour us both a drink, letting the silence stretch between us like a live wire.When I hand her a glass, her fingers brush mine and linger, just for a breath too long.A tremor, so slight she probably thinks I miss it, runs through her hand before she pulls away.

I bring my drink to my lips, watching as she finally lifts hers, masking whatever cracked through her behind the rim of the glass.

“I never would’ve guessed you owned a yacht,” she says.“You don’t step away from work long enough to relax.”

“And yet, here I am.”

She hums, unconvinced.“So, do you take business calls from the deck?Host meetings with your underlings while the waves crash in the background?”

I chuckle.“You’d be surprised how much business gets done on the water.”

She shakes her head in a slow, tired motion, then turns away from me toward the horizon.The last threads of sunlight melt into the sea, staining the water in deep, bruised colors—violet, indigo, the bleeding edge of black.

For a long moment, she just stands there, silhouetted against the dying light, letting the slow, rhythmic sway of the yacht cradle her.

The wind brushes strands of hair across her face, but she doesn’t move to tame them.She simply breathes as if trying to remember how.

Out here, surrounded by endless water and fading sky, she finally lets herself be small.Not the girl who taught herself to be untouchable.Not the Syndicate’s hidden heir.Not the executioner.

Just a woman standing at the edge of the world, trying not to fall apart.

“How many women have you brought on board?”she asks after a long moment, her voice softer now, as if she's afraid of the answer.

"None," I say.

Her lips part slightly, surprise flashing across her face before she masks it, slipping her expression back behind cool, practiced walls."Not even one?"she asks, quieter this time.

I shake my head."This is a part of my life I've never wanted to share with anyone before."

The moment stretches between us, thick and heavy with everything neither of us is ready to name.Maybe she feels it too because she doesn’t tease, doesn’t deflect, doesn’t turn it into a joke the way she usually would.

She just sets her glass down, her fingers lingering on the edge for a breath longer than necessary, then moves past me toward the bow.

Toward the open water, where the horizon stretches into forever.

She braces her hands against the railing, standing at the very edge.I follow, stepping up behind her.My hands find her waist, gentle at first, almost asking permission, and when she doesn’t pull away, I draw her back against my chest.

Aoife leans into me, a soft, shuddering breath slipping from her lips as the last light of the sun sinks into the sea.