Isla

  The days blurred together after my run-in with Finn at the park, each one quieter and more stifling than the last. I stopped going to the park, the coffee shop—anywhere I might accidentally run into him. Groceries arrived in paper bags at my door, the delivery driver’s knock the only interruption to the low instrumental music I played to drown out every creak and shift of my old building. It should have felt safe. I had built this space to be impenetrable—a fortress of solitude where no one could reach me unless I allowed it.

  I’d grown five new snakes in the last few days. Poppy coiled tighter around my neck, her warmth grounding but heavier than usual. Viper hissed softly at every floorboard creak, her tension feeding into mine. Even Freya, who was normally too lazy to care, lifted her head from time to time, her amber eyes watchful. Then there was Noodle. Flicking her tongue toward the window, she hummed with curiosity, a constant prickle at the edge of my thoughts. She always wanted to be out, to explore, no matter what.

  “No,” I said sharply, my voice louder than intended. “We’re staying right here.” The snakes didn’t respond in words, but their collective energy sent a clear message: they wanted out. I moved to the kitchen, filling the kettle and setting it to boil, the soft hum cutting through the oppressive quiet. The snakes shifted as I moved, settling briefly against me as though they were finally relaxing. But even as I busied myself with small, ordinary tasks—plugging in the kettle, reaching for the tea tin—I couldn’t push away the thought that Finn wasn’t just some random interruption. He was a ripple in the carefully still water of my life.

  The knock came—soft but insistent. I froze. The teacup slipped from my fingers and clattered against the counter, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet. Another knock. The door was locked. The building was secure. No one should have been able to get in. I crept toward the small video cam mounted beside the door, my pulse hammering in my ears. My finger hovered before I pressed it, the feed flickering to life.

  Finn. He stood on the other side, leaning casually against the doorframe—though nothing about his posture felt casual. His hair was messier than before, his jaw tight. His dark eyes stayed fixed on the door, unwavering. “What the hell?” I whispered. My heart pounded. How had he gotten past the wards? The speaker crackled as I pressed the button. “Go away.”

  His shoulders sagged slightly, but his gaze didn’t leave the door. “You’re okay,” he said, his voice low but steady.

  “What are you talking about?” I snapped.

  “You disappeared,” he said simply. “We haven’t seen you in days.”

  “We?” My stomach tightened, but I didn’t ask. “That’s kind of the point,” I shot back. “And how did you get into my building?”

  “Isla.” He exhaled sharply, his tone softening. “Just open the door.”

  I barked out a bitter laugh. “I don’t know you. Why would I open my door to some creepy stalker?”

  Finn let out a sound that was half sigh, half growl, his hand scrubbing over his face, the irritation coming off him in waves. “Can we skip the whole ‘we’re strangers’ thing? There are more important things to talk about.”

  The snakes hissed, their unease curling into my thoughts. I should have told him to get lost. I should have ignored him. But the snakes weren’t panicking. They were alert—curious. The instincts threaded through my blood—the ones that never fail when I’m in danger—stayed silent. That was the only reason I unlocked the door and cracked it open just enough to glare at him.

  Finn stepped back slightly, his hands raised in a show of harmlessness. “I’m not here to hurt you,” he said quietly.

  I couldn’t say “I know” so instead I demanded, “Then why are you here?” My grip tightening on the door.

  His gaze softened, his dark eyes searching mine. “Because you’re not safe.” The words hit like a punch, stealing the air from my lungs.

  “What are you talking about?” I said, my voice low and sharp.

  Finn glanced down the hallway before meeting my eyes again. “Someone’s close. Someone dangerous.”

  The snakes shifted sharply, their agitation rippling through me. My stomach twisted, my pulse spiking. “Who?”

  He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “You know who.”

  The unspoken name sat heavy between us, suffocating. My fingers dug into the doorframe.

  “He’s not here yet,” Finn said quickly, his voice steady despite the tension in his jaw. “But he’s looking. And his guys are getting closer.”

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  My throat tightened, the weight of his words settling like a stone in my chest. “How do you know that?”

  “Because I’ve been watching,” Finn said simply.

  The snakes hissed softly, their unease buzzing through me. Viper shot forward slightly, her sleek body coiling tight, while Noodle stretched toward the door, her curiosity undeterred.

  “I don’t need your help,” I said sharply. “I’ve been hiding for centuries—I don’t need you to tell me how to do it.”

  Finn didn’t flinch. “And yet he always finds you, doesn’t he?”

  The truth of his words settled into my bones, heavier than I wanted to admit. “You don’t know anything about me,” I said, my voice cracking despite my anger.

  Finn pressed his lips into a firm line, like he was holding something back. Then, without waiting for permission, he stepped past me into the apartment.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I demanded, spinning to glare at him.

  He stood in the middle of my living room, his gaze sweeping over the space like he was cataloging every detail. The snakes bristled, their agitation buzzing against my skin.

  “You can’t just walk into someone’s home,” I said, my voice cold and sharp.

  Finn turned slowly, meeting my glare. He didn’t look smug or apologetic—just calm. “You wouldn’t have let me in if I asked.”

  “You’re damn right I wouldn’t,” I snapped. “This is my space. My rules. Get out.”

  The snakes hissed softly in agreement, though their earlier aggression had faded. Even Viper seemed uncertain, her usual bravado faltering as Finn stood his ground.

  “I’m not leaving,” he said quietly, “not until we talk.”

  “We did just talk,” I shot back. “You warned me. Message received. Now go.”

  Finn took a step closer, his expression softening. “Isla, you’ve been running for a long time. What if you didn’t have to run anymore?”

  I swallowed hard, my chest tightening at his words. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said sharply.

  “Don’t I?” Finn tilted his head slightly. “Poseidon doesn’t stop. He doesn’t forget. He’s not just going to lose interest.”

  The name hit like salt on an open wound—burning, familiar, wrong. The snakes hissed violently, their agitation flashing like electricity through my nerves. Finn flinched—just barely—but the reaction was there. His eyes softened, regret flickering across his face. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to—”

  I cut him off with a sharp shake of my head, but the damage was done. The memory of that name clawed up my throat like poison. I wanted to argue, to shove him out of my home, to slam the door, to pretend I could still control this space. But the quiet certainty in his voice made my pulse quicken in a way that terrified me.

  “What do you want from me?” I asked finally, the words brittle and strained. Before he can answer, I wave my hand as if I could erase what I just asked. “Nevermind, you don’t have to answer that. You could be one of his lackeys for all I know.”

  Finn didn’t flinch. “You don’t have to believe me, right now.” he said softly.

  My arms crossed tightly over my chest as I leaned against the counter, trying to appear unaffected, though the snakes betrayed me, shifting uneasily against my shoulders. The room fell silent except for the faint hum of the electric kettle I’d started before he knocked. Finn didn’t seem in any hurry to break the stillness. His gaze flicked around my apartment again, not in judgment but quiet observation.

  “Noodle, don’t,” I muttered as I felt her stir. But, as always, Noodle ignored me. She stretched forward, tongue flicking once toward Finn’s hand.

  He noticed immediately. Something softened in his eyes—careful, like he didn’t want to startle her.

  “Don’t encourage her,” I snapped, though the words didn’t have much bite.

  Noodle hovered another second, then retreated, curling back against me with a little huff of offended curiosity.

  I started to relax until Thena moved. She slid forward with slow, deliberate authority. Bright white, the faintest pink sheen shimmering over her scales, she didn’t lunge or test. She inspected. Thena tasted the air near Finn’s knuckles, then brushed her tongue against them like she was confirming a truth I didn’t know how to name.

  Finn didn’t move. But his gaze sharpened, respectful.

  He glanced at me. “She’s in charge,” he said, as if stating a fact. “Yeah?”

  She slid back toward me, her movements unhurried, and settled loosely around my neck again. The snakes were quiet now, their earlier agitation replaced by a strange, wary calm. Even Viper, who was usually the most defensive, stayed coiled and still, as if deciding whether or not to trust him. I hated the way my chest tightened at his words. The way he spoke with such confidence, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

  “Why aren’t you afraid of me?” I asked suddenly, the question sharper than I intended.

  Finn tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting mine. “Why should I be?”

  “You know what happens when people look at me,” I said, my tone mocking.

  “I know the lore,” he said evenly, his gaze steady.

  I bristled, the snakes shifting against me. “And you’re not worried?”

  “No,” he said simply.

  The certainty in his voice made my stomach twist. Everyone else, magical or not, avoided me like I was a loaded weapon. They wouldn’t even glance too long in my direction, let alone hold my gaze the way he was doing now.

  “I could turn you to stone,” I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

  Finn’s lips twitched faintly—not a smile, but something close. “You could try.”

  The audacity of him made my chest tighten with anger—and something else I couldn’t name.

  “You think this is funny?”

  “No,” he said softly, the amusement fading from his face. “I think you’ve just been using the monster thing to keep others out.”

  I rolled my eyes, trying to push back the frustration rising in my chest. “Okay, oh wise one.” I pushed off the counter, moving toward the kitchen. “If you’re going to stay and play therapist, I’m making tea.”

  The kettle clicked off, and I grabbed a mug from the cabinet, the motions sharp and mechanical. Finn didn’t say anything, but I could feel his presence behind me—steady and unyielding. The snakes shifted slightly, their movements brushing against my skin. Even as I poured the water, I couldn’t shake the weight of his gaze.

  “You’re not staying,” I said finally, my voice flat.

  Finn’s tone was maddeningly calm. “We’ll see.”

  The air between us hung heavy, the tension thrumming like static. And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel alone. And I wasn’t sure if that made me feel better—or worse.