Chapter 13 13.Ship Has Sailed
Tabitha’s POV
“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” Luca’s voice barrels into me before I can even pretend to be innocent.
I spin around, startled, my hand still wrapped around the rusted gate lock. My heart thuds as I find all four of them standing there, surrounding me, their expressions unreadable but far from amused. It feels like I’ve been caught committing treason, not just snooping around a dusty wing of the estate.
“I— I was just reading,” I stammer. “It’s a library.”
“Right,” Luca says, a biting edge to his voice. “And you just accidentally wandered into the one section of the library that's locked.”
I try to straighten up, my voice defensive now. “It’s still part of the library. I didn’t think it would be that serious.”
Jace scoffs and takes a step forward. In his hand is the book I left behind on the table. He drops it in front of me with a dull thump. The History of Kaelara Island in the Eyes of Werewolves.
“I don’t know what kind of book you’re trying to find, but if it’s history books about werewolves, then just stick to combing the accessible part of this library. The restricted section is off limits. You should’ve realized that the moment you saw the signage,” Jace lectures while pointing at the signage that I intentionally ignored earlier.
“You’re acting like I tried to steal something. I was just looking for answers.”
“For what?” Jace presses on.
I open my mouth and close it again. I don’t think it’s a good idea to tell them that I’m looking for a way to break the mate bond. They already look pissed as it is.
“You think it’s a coincidence this part of the estate is locked?” Reed tilts his head, his eyes fixed on me. “That door is closed for a reason.”
I glance at the gate behind me, then at their faces. They’re not just irritated. They look… tense. Like I’ve poked at something that was better left buried. That’s strange. Why does trying to sneak into the restricted part of the library got them so worked up?
“I’m just trying to find an interesting book! Why are you all acting like I was planning a murder?” I argue, folding my arms over my chest.
Luca steps closer. His jaw is tight, and his eyes don’t leave mine. “Because you’re playing with fire, and you don’t even know it. There are things in this place that don’t belong in your hands.”
My throat dries. I want to fight back, to say something smart, but the weight of their stares keeps my tongue still.
“If you value your safety, don’t go back there,” Evren says, his voice laced with a cold warning.
A chill creeps down my spine. What does he mean by that? Is he threatening me?
I take a step back.
“Why are you all acting like this?” My voice rises as I look at each one of them.“What are you hiding?”
"Go back to your room, stepsister. And make sure you never come near that gate again,” Luca warns. He steps forward, his towering frame looms above me, and there’s something ruthless in his eyes that makes me feel small… and scared.
I grit my teeth, swallowing everything I want to throw back at him. My fingers curl into fists, but I turn around and walk out, my spine stiff with defiance I’m not brave enough to show.
Whatever they’re trying to hide in there… must be something extremely precious or dangerous. And I can’t decide which one is better.
A week has passed since the engagement party.
My ankle’s mostly healed now. The bruising is gone, the swelling faded, and I can walk without limping—though I still don’t trust it enough to put my full weight on it. Not yet. Even so, I haven’t gone back to the library. Technically, the brothers only warned me about the restricted section, not the entire room, but their words... their expressions... the way they looked at me like I’d touched something poisonous—it’s enough to keep me away.
I haven’t seen much of them since that night. The halls have been strangely quiet, too quiet for an estate this size. Staff say they’ve been busy, patrolling the island in response to increased rogue sightings. Whatever that means. I’ve asked a few questions, but the responses are all tight-lipped and vague, like everyone’s afraid of saying too much.
I’ve been stuck in this house for seven days. Seven. Long. Days.
Isla left for the mainland this morning, off to raid the mall like it’s her personal warzone. No one else is around. The estate feels even larger when there’s no one to fill it, and the silence is starting to press in on me. I need to get out. Just for a little while. Just enough to breathe.
I stand by the window and squint at the sunlit path that winds out toward the main road. It looks harmless enough. And if the brothers are really out there patrolling every inch of this island, then surely it’s safer now than it’s ever been. I’m not going near the library, or the gate, or anywhere forbidden. Just the town. Just a bike ride.
I dress quickly. Light button-up. Denim shorts. A pair of sunglasses I haven’t worn since I arrived. I braid my hair, toss a small pouch of coins into my bag, and wheel out one of the old bicycles from the garage. It creaks a little, but it works.
As soon as the gates of the estate disappear behind me, a breath escapes my lungs without me realizing I’d been holding it. The sun warms my back. The wind whips through my braid, cool and wild. The further I pedal, the more I feel like myself again—less like some girl trapped inside a haunted mansion with too many secrets.
The town square has changed since I last wandered through it. A new café is open on the corner, its patio filled with couples sharing drinks and gossip. Street vendors line the curb, selling everything from handmade soaps to bead necklaces to spiced bread I can smell from half a block away. I stop to buy a bag of pastries from an older man who recognizes me as “the Aldair girl.” He smiles, slips an extra croissant into the bag, and tells me I look like my father.
That part makes my chest ache a little.
I eat as I walk, the warmth of the food settling something restless in my stomach. There’s a kind of rhythm to this place now—a soft hum of life I hadn’t noticed before.
Eventually, I follow the road beyond the market, past the shops and houses, until I reach the edge of the island. Kaelara Beach stretches before me like something out of a dream. Pale sand, glittering sea, sky so wide it swallows thought. A few locals are scattered along the shore, but otherwise, it’s just me.
I take off my sandals and walk to where the water meets the sand. The tide rolls in and brushes my toes, cold and clean.
The air smells like salt and sunlight and memory.
I close my eyes.
And just for a moment, I let myself remember my father—his laughter, his hands wrapped around a fishing pole, his voice telling me stories over the crash of waves. He used to bring me here every summer, before everything got strange. Before the estate. Before the brothers. Before all the rules.
I open my eyes, the wind tugging at my braid.
For once, the quiet doesn’t feel heavy. It feels like peace.
As I gaze out over the sea, lost in the sound of the waves, a voice calls from behind me.
“Well, look who finally decided to leave the tower.”
I turn and find Arthur Beckett standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets, that familiar dimpled smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He looks relaxed in his rolled-up sleeves and linen pants, like he belongs in every postcard ever made of this island.
I raise an eyebrow, smirking. “The tower?”
“You’ve been holed up in that estate like some cursed princess. I was starting to think you didn’t actually exist outside of rumors.”
I laugh and playfully roll my eyes. “Aren’t you funny one?”
Arthur grins and takes a step closer. He takes a deep breath as he stands beside me, his eyes gaze combing through the breathtaking view of the ocean in front of us.
“Honestly, I came to this part of this part of the island because I needed a break,” I say.
“From what?”
From my irritating stepbrothers. I almost say, but I settle with, “From everything. It’s summer break and we all know that it’s the best season for exploring the whole island. Plus, the weather today is very nice, so I thought some strolling was in order.”