ETHAN

The Bhola skimmed across the waves like a knife through butter. Named after the deadliest storm in recorded history, the boat was a gift from my mother. A bit morbid, sure, but Kymopoleia had always found humor in destruction. I liked to think we shared that trait.

Julia and Alice had taken to exploring the boat, probably rifling through every drawer and cabinet they could find. I'd caught them earlier trying to pick the lock on my supply room. Whatever they thought I was hiding in there, I doubted it was worth the effort.

Sam had retreated to one of the bathrooms, where his seasickness was waging war with his dignity. Poor kid. Satyrs weren't built for this kind of travel.

And Drew? I hadn't seen her in a while. That should've made me nervous, but instead, it gave me time to think.

The girls were an interesting bunch. Julia and Alice were the kind of chaos you couldn't help but love. Their energy reminded me of myself as a kid, back before life taught me the world wasn't a place for people like me. They were reckless, mischievous, and innocent in a way that made me want to keep them safe, even if they'd never admit to needing it.

Then there was Drew.

She was a walking contradiction: poised yet fiery, confident yet fragile beneath the surface. And gods, was she beautiful. Her eyes were the color of molten gold, sharp and intense, like they could pierce through your soul if you weren't careful. Her skin was flawless, glowing even under the dull moonlight reflecting off the water. Her hair—a cascade of glossy brown waves—was the kind of perfection that probably drove every Aphrodite kid in existence to tears of jealousy. And her lips…

Stop it, I told myself. She's a kid. An irritating, self-absorbed kid.

I wasn't doing a great job of convincing myself, though, especially since she had this habit of commanding attention without even trying. Case in point:

"Ethan," she called, her voice sharp and authoritative, like I'd done something wrong and needed to beg for forgiveness.

I turned to see her standing behind me, one hand on her hip, the other idly twirling a strand of hair. Her crop top showed off her toned stomach, and her designer shorts were short enough to make my thoughts even more inappropriate. She knew exactly what she was doing.

"What now, Princess?" I asked, grinning despite myself.

She scowled. "Stop calling me that."

"Not my fault it fits."

Drew rolled her eyes but didn't argue. Instead, she stepped closer, crossing her arms and tilting her head. "You're mysterious, Ethan. I don't trust mysterious."

"Good policy."

"So, spill. What's your deal? How'd you end up as a bounty hunter with a murder boat?"

I leaned against the railing, staring out at the dark water. "Long story."

"We've got time," she pressed, leaning beside me. Her perfume—a mix of roses and something warm, like vanilla—drifted over, making it harder to focus.

I sighed. "I had a lonely childhood. Spent most of it on the run. My mom—Kymopoleia—found me eventually. Saved me, in her way. But nothing comes free with the gods. She put me to work, sent me on mission after mission. Dangerous stuff. That's how I ended up… here."

Drew frowned. "That's it? No details?"

"Details are overrated." I turned the question back on her. "What about you? Aphrodite cabin princess—what's your story?"

Her eyes narrowed, but she seemed to enjoy the attention. "Fine. I grew up in L.A. My mortal mom is a fashion designer. Big name, loves the spotlight, but she was never really there for me. When I got to Camp Half-Blood, I took over as head counselor of Cabin Ten. Then Piper McLean showed up."

I raised an eyebrow. "Piper McLean?"

Her expression darkened. "She stole everything—my cabin, my spotlight, Jason Grace."

"Who's Jason Grace?"

She waved a dismissive hand. "Doesn't matter. He's dead now. Anyway, Piper always played the nice girl, but she was manipulative. Everyone loved her, and I got painted as the villain. It wasn't fair."

"Sounds rough," I said, though I couldn't keep the amusement out of my voice.

Drew scowled. "Why are you smiling?"

"Because you've got a fire in you. I like that."

Her cheeks turned pink. "Don't get any ideas."

"Wouldn't dream of it." I didn't mention how the moonlight caught her eyes or how her lips looked even plumper when she pouted. I also didn't mention how much effort it was taking not to act on the ideas I definitely wasn't supposed to have.

"You're staring," she said, smirking.

"Am not."

"Are too." She flipped her hair, leaning slightly closer. "Do you have a crush on me, Ethan?"

I laughed. "Cute, Princess, but no. You're too young and way too much trouble."

Drew scoffed, pretending to be offended. "Please. You couldn't handle me anyway."

"Keep telling yourself that."

She stepped back, gesturing at my outfit—black jeans, boots, and a leather jacket. "Besides, your fashion sense is tragic. No girl with standards would go for this."

I smirked. "Yet here you are, flirting with me."

"I'm not flirting!"

"Whatever you say."

She huffed, crossing her arms again. "I don't like you."

"Sure you don't."

And there it was: that spark in her eyes, the one that made her infuriating and irresistible all at once. I knew better than to entertain the idea of her any further, but gods help me, I couldn't stop thinking about her.

Focus, Ethan. She's too young, too innocent, and too good for someone like you.

Still, as she sauntered off with an exaggerated sway in her hips, I couldn't help but smile.

She was trouble. And unfortunately, I love trouble.

DREW

Drew lay sprawled on her bunk, glaring at the ceiling. The dim light from a small porthole cast faint ripples on the metal walls, the movement of the ocean mirrored inside the cramped room. She might've appreciated the aesthetic if it weren't for the constant snork and snort sounds coming from the other side of the room.

Alice and Julia were dead to the world, snoring loudly and muttering nonsense in their sleep. Drew had tried earplugs, turning over, and even using her pillow as a soundproof shield, but nothing could drown them out.

With an exasperated sigh, she turned onto her side, her mind drifting back to her earlier conversation with Ethan. She'd found him brooding by the railing, looking like a tragic antihero ripped straight from one of those cheesy romance novels Julia always read. His dark eyes and sharp jawline had been especially distracting under the moonlight.

He's so infuriating, she thought, but the corner of her mouth twitched into a smile. That little smirk of his? Infuriating. His dismissive attitude? Even more infuriating. But the way he'd looked at her—like he could see right through her usual facade—left her feeling… intrigued.

Drew sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. Ethan was a challenge, and she didn't back down from challenges. It was about time, anyway. She was turning eighteen soon, and Camp Half-Blood didn't feel like it used to. Everyone saw her as the same old Drew: the girl who'd lost her cabin to Piper McLean, the one who couldn't keep Jason Grace's attention. They don't see me for who I am now.

Her plan started forming in her head: college, a new life, and maybe—just maybe—proving to Ethan that she was more than a spoiled daughter of Aphrodite.

The snoring crescendoed again, dragging her back to reality. She groaned, swung her legs over the side of the bunk, and grabbed a silk robe from her bag. If she couldn't sleep, she might as well take a walk.

She crept out of the room, careful not to wake the two human tornadoes, and climbed the narrow stairs toward the main deck. The ocean air hit her like a refreshing slap, cool and sharp against her skin. She sighed, closing her eyes and letting the breeze work its magic.

That's when she heard it—voices cutting through the wind.

Drew froze, pressing herself against the doorway. One voice was Ethan's, low and rough, the kind of tone that sent a shiver down her spine. The other was feminine, sharp yet smooth, like the waves themselves were speaking.

"Why are you helping Olympians now?" the woman demanded, her voice dripping with disdain. "What have they ever done for you?"

Ethan's reply was laced with sarcasm. "I'm not. Is it illegal to help kids in need now?"

"Your tone," the woman snapped. "Always the same disrespect. You know what I mean, Ethan. Answer me."

Drew held her breath, inching closer to the sound of their conversation.

"Why would I help a losing fight?" Ethan said after a pause. "What chance do the Titans have without Hyperion, Krios, Iapetus, and their damn King Kronos?"

The woman laughed, a sound that sent chills up Drew's spine. "More than you might think. When they seek you out again, just… consider it."

Ethan exhaled loudly, frustration clear in his tone. "We'll see, Mom. We'll see."

Drew's eyes widened, her mind racing. Mom? That meant the woman was… Kymopoleia. Drew bit her lip, her heart pounding. Ethan's mother was literally a goddess.

The wind howled, covering the sound of Drew tiptoeing back down the stairs. She slipped into the cabin and into her bunk, her thoughts spinning so fast she barely noticed Alice mutter something about doughnuts in her sleep.

The Titans were planning something. That much was obvious. But if the Titans were asking Ethan for help, it meant two things: one, Ethan was way more dangerous than she'd realized, and two, they thought he could sway the balance of power in a potential war.

Drew lay awake in the dark, her mind refusing to settle after what she'd overheard. She knew she should be focusing on what Ethan and his goddess mother had been discussing—how the Titans might be regrouping, how Ethan's allegiances were dangerously flexible—but instead, her thoughts kept wandering back to him.

The way his voice had deepened when he said "Mom." The sardonic edge to his tone that somehow managed to make him sound roguishly charming, even when he was being infuriating. And then there was the way he looked at her—not quite the same as the gawking boys back at Camp Half-Blood. No, Ethan looked at her like he was reading a book he couldn't decide whether to keep or throw overboard.

Drew flipped onto her back, staring at the ceiling. "This is stupid," she muttered, but the seeds of a plan were already taking root.

She needed to make him fall for her.

Ethan was a challenge, and Drew Tanaka never backed down from challenges. Sure, he was older. Sure, he was a self-proclaimed bounty hunter who probably had more baggage than an international airport. But those were details. She thrived on impossible situations.

Her mind started racing, assembling the pieces like a well-rehearsed makeover.

Step One: Get His Attention

Ethan didn't fall for the usual charmspeak routine or the pouty-lip, wide-eye act that worked on most guys. That made things harder—and way more fun. She'd have to lean into his weaknesses.

She remembered how he'd reacted when she'd gotten all fiery and indignant earlier, slapping him for his Titan War betrayal. He'd laughed, sure, but there was something else there—amusement, maybe even admiration.

He likes confidence. He likes fire.

Drew smirked. Good thing those were her specialties.

Step Two: Keep Him Guessing

Ethan struck her as the type who didn't trust easily, which meant she'd have to make him curious. She'd tell him just enough about herself to keep him intrigued, but not enough to make him feel like he had her all figured out. She'd drop hints about her past, her ambitions, and her life at camp—just enough to make him wonder what else she was hiding.

And when he asked, she'd play coy.

Step Three: The Power of Proximity

The Bhola was a small boat, and proximity was on her side. She'd make sure to "accidentally" bump into him in the hallways, linger near him on the deck, and offer to help with tasks that required more than one person.

People couldn't help but develop feelings when they were around someone long enough. It was psychology or something.

Step Four: Look Irresistible

Ethan might be immune to charmspeak, but he wasn't blind. Drew was a daughter of Aphrodite, after all. She knew how to work her best features. She'd swap her usual camp clothes for outfits that were both practical and flattering—leggings that hugged her legs, tops that showed just the right amount of skin.

She'd let her hair fall naturally, the way it always caught the light in soft waves. And her lip gloss? Oh, that was non-negotiable.

Step Five: Make Him Want to Protect Her

Guys like Ethan had this weird protective streak. It was probably some minor-god complex thing. All she had to do was feign a little vulnerability here and there—nothing over the top, just enough to make him feel like he was the only one who understood her.

And if she got in a little trouble? Well, it wasn't like she couldn't handle herself. But letting him swoop in to "save" her every once in a while wouldn't hurt.

Step Six: Flip the Script

The ultimate key? Make Ethan think he was the one pursuing her. She'd let him feel like he was in control, like he was the one choosing her. She'd give him just enough attention to keep him interested but pull back when he started getting too comfortable.

By the time he realized what was happening, it'd be too late. He'd be hooked.

Drew grinned to herself, satisfied with her plan. Sure, Ethan was a little older, a little darker, and a lot more complicated than anyone she'd dealt with before. But that only made the game more thrilling.

With a triumphant sigh, she sank back into her pillow. But the quiet satisfaction didn't last long. Her mind replayed Ethan's conversation with Kymopoleia. The Titans were clearly trying to rally support, and Ethan was apparently important enough for them to approach. That made him dangerous.

Her smirk faltered. Maybe she was biting off more than she could chew.

Then again, she always did like playing with fire.

With that thought, Drew finally drifted off to sleep, her dreams a mix of stormy eyes, dangerous smiles, and the distant echoes of a goddess's warning