Read The Silent Tide :: Breaking Point

The lock gave way with a soft click, and Cassian stepped into the captain’s cabin like a shadow slipping through a crack in the world. He shut the door behind him without a sound.

The space smelled of salt, rum, and candle wax melted to the bone of the wood. Papers lay scattered over the desk, the remnants of a map half-folded, the edges curling. A knife had been left buried in the table’s surface, plunged straight through parchment, pinning something in place. The lantern on the wall had burned itself out, leaving only the silver sprawl of moonlight, which poured through the half-open window, turning the room into an ink painting of pale blues and blackened golds.

And there, in the center of it, was Thorne.

He lay stretched across the bed, the thin sheet tangled low at his waist. Cassian had seen him in the daylight before, seen the broad cut of his shoulders, the sun-bronzed skin tight over muscle. But now, in the quiet hush of the dark, Thorne looked different. Softer, maybe. Or simply unguarded. The scars mapping his back and arms stood out sharper in the silver glow, the fine lines of old wounds catching the light. His hair, usually tied, had spilled loose across the pillow, dark and slightly curled from the sea air.

Cassian curled his fingers into fists. No more silence. He strode forward, grabbed the edge of the blanket, and yanked it off in one sharp motion.

"Get up."

A low groan. Thorne stirred, blinking into the darkness, his hand moving instinctively—

Cassian caught the glint of a blade.

"Careful, captain," he murmured, just before the knife could leave its hiding place beneath the pillow. "Wouldn't want to kill the only person still willing to talk to you."

Thorne blinked blearily at him. His voice was thick with sleep. "What in the—"

"Someone tried to kill the boy."

That woke him up.

The shift was immediate. The tension in his shoulders, the sharp clarity sweeping through his gaze.

"And for that, you broke into my cabin?"

"For that," Cassian echoed, "and a thousand other reasons." He crossed his arms. "You’re going to talk to me, Thorne."

"Not this shit again." Thorne exhaled slowly through his nose, rubbing a hand down his face. "And what makes you think—"

"I know his name."

Silence.

It was instant, complete.

Cassian didn’t look away. Didn’t blink.

"Hypnos."

A muscle in Thorne’s jaw ticked.

"So," Cassian said softly, "is this a good sign or not?"

Thorne didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he tilted his head back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling as if the answer might be carved into the wood. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. Then, kissing his teeth, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for the table. A bottle of rum. The glass caught the moonlight, glistening amber when he tilted it to his lips.

Cassian let him drink first.

"You really don’t know where the map leads," Cassian said, watching him. Watching the way Thorne’s fingers curled too tight around the bottle.

"No," Thorne admitted.

Cassian should have felt victorious. Instead, he felt sick.

Thorne poured him a glass. Cassian accepted it but didn’t drink.

"Tell me, then," Cassian said, quieter now. "Who is Hypnos?"

Thorne ran a thumb over the rim of his cup, staring down at the liquid inside. He looked older in the dim light. Tired.

Cassian had never known Thorne to hesitate.

But here he was—silent.

Then—he spoke.

"I loved your brother."

Cassian stopped breathing.

Thorne let the words settle before continuing, voice steady.

"Absolutely. Recklessly. In a way I knew was foolish, because he—" A soft exhale. "Matthias wasn’t interested in men."

Cassian felt something shift inside him. A pressure, a weight, a crack.

"So I bargained."

Cassian’s pulse jumped.

"I prayed to the gods, to the sea." Thorne’s voice was low. "I said, ‘If you give me him, I will give you anything.’"

A bitter smile.

"But you can’t bargain for love, Cassian."

The words felt heavy in the space between them.

"The sea doesn’t give. It only takes."

Cassian’s breath shallowed.

"Matthias was fine before," Thorne said, voice almost hollow. "He was fine. He was free here at the Red Wind. But the moment I opened my mouth, the moment I made that offer—"

He dragged a hand through his hair.

"The gods listened."

Cassian’s stomach twisted.

"You cursed him," he said, barely above a whisper.

Thorne met his gaze. Didn’t flinch.

"I did."

"He would have been fine."

Silence.

"He would have been fine." Cassian’s voice broke on the last word.

Thorne just closed his eyes. As if hearing it aloud was a blade to the ribs.

Cassian moved before he could think.

One second he was standing, breathing—the next, his fist slammed into Thorne’s jaw.

A crack of knuckles against bone.

Thorne’s head snapped to the side, brown hair falling loose over his face. Blood welled where Cassian’s ring had split his skin.

For a moment, nothing.

Then—Thorne lunged.

Cassian barely had time to brace before they crashed into the desk, bottles toppling, rum spilling over maps and papers. Thorne’s fist buried itself in his ribs, knocking the air from his lungs, but Cassian didn’t stop. He struck back—jaw, ribs, gut.

Thorne shoved him hard. They staggered, breathless, before Cassian threw another punch—wild, furious. Thorne caught his wrist, twisting. Cassian gritted his teeth against the pain, his free hand grabbing Thorne’s collar and yanking him forward until their faces were inches apart.

"You cursed him," Cassian snarled. "You—"

Thorne drove them backward, slamming Cassian against the cabin wall. The wood groaned with the impact.

"You left him!" Thorne roared. His hands dug into Cassian’s shoulders. "You abandoned him—"

Cassian jerked his knee up, hitting Thorne’s side. The captain hissed, stumbling just enough for Cassian to twist them again, flipping their positions.

Bodies pressed. Breath hot.

Thorne’s lip was split open. Cassian could taste blood in the air.

Thorne’s weight shifted—he pushed forward again, overpowering Cassian. With a sharp twist, Thorne wrenched them sideways. Off balance, they fell.

The thud as they hit the floor rattled the cabin.

Cassian’s back slammed against the wood, air torn from his lungs. Thorne landed on top of him, solid and unyielding, his knees pressing into Cassian’s sides, their limbs tangled, their breath ragged.

Blood dripped from Thorne’s nose—onto Cassian’s lips.

Cassian’s fingers dug into Thorne’s arms. Thorne’s hands fisted Cassian’s collar.

Neither of them moved.

Their chests heaved, almost pressed together. The fight still buzzed under their skin, in their clenched jaws, their eyes set on fire, in the sharp pull of breath between them.

The space between them was too tight, too charged.

Cassian wasn’t thinking anymore.

Neither was Thorne.

And then—

Their mouths collided.

Not gentle. Not careful. A clash of teeth and heat and something that should not feel this inevitable.