ETHAN
Ethan stood on the beach, his boots sinking slightly into the damp sand as he watched Drew walk away. The sway in her hips was so deliberate it was almost comical, but somehow, she made it look effortless. His cheek still tingled from where her lips had pressed a light, teasing kiss moments earlier.
He rubbed the back of his neck, staring after her until she disappeared over the hill leading into Camp Half-Blood. Only then did he release a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"What the hell am I doing?" he muttered to himself.
Drew Tanaka was... something else. Stunning, confident, sharp-tongued, and armed with enough charm to knock down a city wall. Her every word and movement seemed calculated to command attention, and Ethan was more than aware that he wasn't immune to it.
He scowled at himself, dragging a hand down his face. She was young. She couldn't have been more than nineteen—or almost there—and yet she had this air of self-assuredness that made her seem older. It was disarming, like everything about her was designed to throw people off balance.
He thought back to her kiss on his cheek, the way she'd whispered into his ear like she owned the world and was simply granting him a moment of her time. His lips twitched into a reluctant smile. Renovations to the boat, huh?
The truth was, Drew had gotten under his skin. Over the past two days, her flirtatious antics had been impossible to ignore. She was always finding an excuse to be near him—leaning against him during conversations, brushing her fingers against his arm when she handed him something, tossing out sly compliments that made him shake his head even as they lingered in his mind.
And the worst part? It was working.
Ethan turned and walked back to the Bhola, his boat gently rocking against the shore. He climbed aboard and leaned against the railing, letting the sea breeze cool his face. The Bhola was his sanctuary, his escape from the chaos of the world, but somehow Drew had managed to invade even that.
He thought about her during the sea monster attack earlier. The way she'd stood firm on the deck, using her charmspeak to force a massive eel-like creature to dive back into the depths. She'd been fearless, her voice carrying an authority that made even the ocean itself seem to pause and listen.
For a brief moment, he'd been impressed. No, more than impressed—amazed. She wasn't just a pretty face; she had power, skill, and a tenacity that reminded him of someone else he'd known long ago.
But then she'd turned to him, her lips curling into a triumphant smile, and said, "Don't worry, Ethan. I'll protect you."
He'd rolled his eyes, trying to play it off, but his chest had tightened in a way he didn't want to think about.
Now, standing alone on the deck, Ethan closed his eyes and let out a low chuckle. "She's dangerous," he muttered, shaking his head. In a way that felt far more personal.
Drew was playing a game, that much was obvious. She wanted something from him—attention, admiration, control—and Ethan wasn't naive enough to fall for it. At least, that's what he kept telling himself.
But every time he caught her smirking at him, every time her perfume lingered in the air after she walked by, every time she shot him a wink that made his stomach tighten against his will—he couldn't help but wonder if he was losing this game before he even realized he was playing.
With a sigh, Ethan leaned over the railing, staring out at the calm waves lapping against the Bhola. He couldn't let himself get distracted. Drew was beautiful, sure. She was bold, confident, and had a fire in her that made her hard to ignore.
But she was also trouble. And trouble was something Ethan had spent his entire life trying—and failing—to avoid.
Still, as he thought about her parting words and the way her laughter had sounded like music on the wind, when he heard the sounds hooves approaching.
"Fuck Chiron!" Ethan thought immediately has he quickly began to prepare the boat to depart before he had to face his past.
The boat began to rock in the suddenly violent water, its moorings strained under the weight of the turbulent waves Ethan had conjured in his fury. The water was alive behind him, roiling like a storm unleashed, echoing the anger that surged through his veins. He worked quickly, but the years of isolation had made him reckless; he wasn't ready for this confrontation. Not now. Not here. Not with him.
He was just about to shove off, to escape the echoes of his past and the weight of the camp's haunted gates, when he heard the soft thud of hooves. It was too late. Chiron had arrived.
"Ethan, we need to speak," Chiron's voice cut through the wind, steady and calm, but Ethan could feel the unspoken history in those words.
Ethan's heart thumped harder in his chest, his fingers tightening around the oars. His breath quickened. He was so close to escaping. So close. Yet, the ghost of his younger self—the one who had been cast aside, ignored—rose up with the force of a storm. He turned, eyes narrowed, fists clenched at his sides.
"I'm not one of your little campers," he spat, his voice a razor-sharp hiss. "And besides, you're about thirteen years too late with that one."
Chiron's expression remained unchanged, though his gaze softened slightly, like someone looking at a broken statue, resigned to its fractured form. The centaur stood still, his eyes trying to dissect Ethan, trying to see through the veil of fury and pain that had surrounded him for years. But the wound ran too deep. The hurt was beyond anything that Chiron's ancient wisdom could heal.
"Hmmph. As if he has the right," Ethan muttered under his breath, his hands shaking from the raw intensity of the emotions churning inside him.
Chiron sighed deeply, the weight of centuries pressing down on his broad shoulders, each one heavy with the sorrow of lives lost and promises broken. "Ethan, you must understand— I could not go against the will of Kymopoleia without the support of Poseidon."
Ethan's laugh was bitter and hollow, a bitter sound that mixed with the growing storm behind him. The sea churned, its waves becoming increasingly violent, mirroring the chaos inside him. His chest tightened with rage, and his body trembled from the force of it.
"So," Ethan seethed, stepping closer, his voice rising to a scream, "you left a 12-year-old child to fend for himself? To live a life without love? If I had been an Olympian child, you would've helped me, let me in, protected me. Wouldn't you? Answer me, Centaur!"
At his words, the sky above them darkened, as though the heavens themselves answered his fury. The rain began to pour down in sheets, the sound deafening as it hammered against the magical barriers of Camp Half-Blood. Ethan's hands trembled with unchecked power.
Chiron didn't flinch. He stood undeterred, as though the weight of his past sins were too heavy for him to hide. His voice was firm, though tinged with sorrow. "Stop this now, Ethan. Your issue is with me, not the camp. You're going to hurt someone if you cannot control your emotions."
The storm intensified around them, the winds howling, the waves crashing violently against the shore. Ethan's eyes burned with fury. He felt like the storm itself was in him, and he was struggling to keep it from consuming everything.
Chiron's steady gaze never wavered, his voice steady as ever. "You're not the only one who's suffered, Ethan. I have seen countless demigods like you… struggling. Dying. But you cannot let your rage define you. You must find a way to let go of this anger."
The sea roared louder, as if responding to Ethan's heart, thrashing against the dock with primal fury. "You don't understand," Ethan spat, stepping forward, eyes flashing with bloodlust. "You don't get to stand there and lecture me about control. You—YOU left me! You let me rot in the wilds while the rest of your precious little campers got to be safe in the camp. You didn't care then. You don't care now."
His words echoed in the air, drenched in venom, as rain whipped against his skin, his emotions taking form in the chaos around them. But Chiron didn't retreat. He didn't run.
And in that moment, Ethan realized that no amount of rage, no amount of chaos, would make the past disappear. He could scream until his throat bled, but nothing would change. Chiron had made his choices, and Ethan had made his.
But still, that bitter ache gnawed at him, deep inside, that gnawing feeling that he'd been abandoned in his most vulnerable moment, left to fight his own battles as an innocent child.
"You left me," Ethan whispered more softly now, a tremor in his voice as the storm raged on, both inside and out.
The storm had taken on a life of its own. It was as if the ocean and sky were listening to Ethan's rage, responding to his every surge of emotion. His fists clenched as his heart pounded, and his mind screamed for release.
"You still don't get it, do you?" Ethan yelled, his voice raw with fury. "You think you can lecture me about control, but you don't know what it's like to be left behind, to have nothing!"
Without warning, Ethan's anger surged outward. He slammed his hands down, forcing the air around him to crackle with energy. In an instant, the sky darkened even further, and a massive tide began to rise behind him, swelling like a tidal wave, ready to crash down on Chiron.
Chiron didn't flinch. He didn't even move as Ethan's fury coiled like a snake, ready to strike.
"Enough!" Ethan shouted, the water behind him surged upward with immense force, twisting and spiraling. But instead of a simple wave, a column of pressurized steam and water erupted from the sea, hurtling toward Chiron like a massive cannon. The steam hissed as it tore through the air, a deadly force meant to blind and drown.
Chiron dodged with the grace of a creature who had lived through countless centuries, leaping out of the way with a swift movement. The pressure and heat of the blast sent steam billowing into the air, clouding the area, but Chiron had already moved, his hooves barely making a sound on the soft sand as he navigated the chaos.
"You can't keep doing this, Ethan," Chiron called out, his voice firm but gentle, cutting through the noise of the storm. "Your pain is blinding you. You're stronger than this. Don't let it control you."
But Ethan wasn't listening. His anger had clouded his mind, and he lashed out again, summoning another tidal eruption.
This time, Chiron didn't dodge. Instead, he braced himself, using the skill and agility he had honed over millennia to redirect the force of the blast, using his body as a shield to absorb the impact. Water splashed around him, but he stood firm.
"Ethan, please," Chiron said, his voice cutting through the chaos, "this isn't the answer. You can't keep drowning in your rage."
The storm continued unabated, an extension of Ethan's fury, the very sky and sea twisted in anger as if reflecting his own. His fists clenched, his eyes burning with a rage that had been building for years. It wasn't just about Chiron. It was about everything—his abandonment, his anger at the Olympians, and his frustration with how little control he had over the chaos in his life.
"Enough!" Ethan screamed, his voice full of raw emotion as the sea behind him responded, rising into a towering, violent wave. Without hesitation, he unleashed a force of pressurized steam and water, a blast of fury meant to overwhelm Chiron.
The steam shot forward like a blast of raw power, hissing with energy, rushing toward the centaur, but Chiron dodged effortlessly, moving with the grace of someone who had lived through countless storms. Ethan wasn't going to stop. The anger was too much, too overwhelming.
"Ethan, stop!" Chiron shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos, but Ethan wasn't listening. Instead, he pulled from deep within himself, summoning a tidal eruption, this one even larger, taller, and fiercer than before. The wave rose up, as if summoned from the very core of the ocean itself, crashing toward Chiron with the full force of Ethan's fury.
"Stop lecturing me!" Ethan shouted, his voice thick with fury. "You think you understand me, but you don't!"
Chiron braced for the impact, his hooves digging into the ground as he deflected the blast with skill and strength. But Ethan wasn't about to back down. Not when the anger inside him felt like it could swallow the entire world.
Just as he was about to strike again, something shifted in the air. He caught sight of a figure sprinting toward the chaos, running with a confidence that made his heart skip a beat. It was Drew.
Drew Tanaka. The girl who had wormed her way into his heart without his consent. He didn't want to admit it, but it was true. He hadn't wanted to care, but she had a way of getting under his skin—teasing him, pushing his buttons, challenging him in ways that no one else had. And now, here she was, running toward him through the rain, her soaked hair sticking to her face, her clothes clinging to her body as she moved with determination.
He couldn't stop staring at her, even as the storm continued to whip around them.
"Ethan!" Drew shouted, her voice cutting through the noise, sharp and commanding. "Stop it! You're going to make me ruin my favorite outfit!"
That was all it took. In an instant, the storm seemed to quiet, as though the heavens themselves were holding their breath. Ethan's heart skipped a beat as Drew reached him, her drenched clothes and messy hair making her look even more beautiful to him, her confidence shining through despite the chaos around them.
"You really do love making a scene, don't you?" Drew said, her voice dripping with sarcastic affection as she stepped onto the boat with an almost casual air, like she was completely unfazed by the storm, the water, or the fact that she was about to confront an enraged demigod.
"I wasn't trying to make a scene," Ethan muttered, though he couldn't hide the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. She had this way of getting under his skin, but not in the way that made him angry anymore. No, now it was something else entirely. Something he didn't want to admit. Something that made his chest tighten.
"Sure," Drew said, giving him a raised eyebrow, "and I'm sure the ocean really didn't notice the drama you've been causing."
The playful teasing in her voice was enough to make Ethan stop, his anger faltering just slightly. He hated how she always knew how to cut through his mood. She wasn't scared of him. She was infuriatingly calm in the face of his chaos, and somehow, that made everything worse.
"You don't get it, Drew," Ethan said, his voice still rough with the remnants of his rage. "You don't know me…"
"Yeah, yeah," she interrupted, putting her hands on her hips, "You're the Mysterious Bounty Hunter. But guess what? I don't care I'm the fucking Drew Tanaka. So quit trying to drown us."
Ethan blinked, his mind racing. That's when he realized it—she wasn't scared. Drew had a way of taking the storm he was unleashing and turning it into a joke. A game. Something he could never take too seriously, no matter how hard he tried.
And that was the problem. Drew Tanaka had wormed her way into his heart like no one else ever had. And she has never backed down even once in the few days he has known, he admired that about her.
Her smile, the glint of mischief in her eyes, and the way she stood there—so sure of herself, so impossibly confident—was enough to cut through his fury. Despite himself, he felt his grip on the storm loosen, just a little.
Drew stepped closer, her rain-soaked features glowing in the dim light, the remnants of the storm falling around them. "Do you think you can scare me, Ethan?" she asked, her voice laced with affection and annoyance in equal measure. "I'm already wet, my hair's ruined, and this is definitely not the first time I've dealt with a pissed-off demigod. So why don't you just calm down and stop making my makeup run? I swear, if you don't I'll send you to Tartarus myself."
Despite himself, Ethan couldn't help but admire the way she stood there, drenched to the bone, not even caring that her clothes clung to her form, her makeup ruined, her hair tangled in the rain. She looked perfect in a way that made his heart skip a beat, his anger now just a faint memory.
"You're unbelievable," he muttered, his voice softer now, no longer filled with the explosive fury it had been before. Drew was the only person who could do this to him—calm him down with nothing more than her snarky, selfishly adorable personality.
"Yeah, yeah, I know welcome to the club," Drew said with a grin, rolling her eyes. "I told back when we first met not to fuck with me didn't I, so drop this storm so I can try and salvage this outfit?"
"Fine," Ethan grumbled, rolling his eyes, though there was a small smile tugging at his lips. "You're unsufferable."
Drew grinned, stepping closer, brushing a wet strand of hair from her face. "And you love me for it."
DREW
The storm had settled into a quiet, oppressive calm, the waves lapping gently against the boat as if the sea itself was taking a breather from the fury that had once been. Ethan stood at the bow, arms crossed, gaze fixed somewhere in the distance, far away from the people around him. Drew had moved away for a moment, casting a glance at Chiron, who stood somewhat awkwardly off to the side, watching them both with a quiet, unreadable expression.
Drew narrowed her eyes. She wasn't sure what was going on between Ethan and Chiron, but one thing was for sure: whatever it was, it wasn't good. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. Ethan's storm had passed, but it seemed like the one between him and Chiron was far from over.
Without thinking, Drew turned to Chiron, her voice sharp and commanding. "Leave. Now. Get back to camp and let me handle this."
Chiron opened his mouth to protest, but Drew cut him off with a look that could freeze fire. "No. I'm getting to the bottom of this my way. Whatever's between you two can wait. Go."
There was a moment of hesitation, the centaur's hooves shifting uncomfortably on the wet ground, but after a beat, he sighed deeply. Drew saw the regret in his eyes before he nodded reluctantly and turned to leave, heading back toward the trees without another word.
As the centaur disappeared from sight, Drew let out a slow breath, tension easing from her shoulders as she walked over to the railing next to Ethan. She stood there for a moment, studying him with an unreadable expression, but then her eyes softened—just for a second—before narrowing once more. She needed answers, and there was no room for delay.
She didn't speak immediately, leaning against the railing as the boat rocked slightly in the calm aftermath of the storm. Drew's soaked hair clung to her face in wet strands, her clothes sticking to her body in the damp air. She brushed the hair out of her face, flicking the rain from her chin as she stared out over the water.
She knew Ethan didn't like talking about his past—hell, he hated it—but she wasn't going to let this slide. Not now. She didn't care. She wasn't going to let this go. After all of his brooding mystery she deserved answers.
Finally, Drew broke the silence. Her voice was low, unwavering. "You're going to explain. Right now."
Ethan's head snapped in her direction, his face a mask of irritation. "You think I'm going to explain all of this to you?"
Drew didn't flinch. She raised an eyebrow, waiting. His gaze flickered away, his fists clenched at his sides, and Drew could almost see the wheels turning in his mind, debating whether to snap at her or give in.
Finally, after a long, tense silence, he let out a bitter laugh. "Fine," he muttered, his voice thick with resentment. "I was five when my mom—Kymopoleia—saved me from monsters. She's… not exactly the loving, nurturing type. In fact, she's violent, ruthless, and... well, I guess that's in her nature. It's not her fault. But that's how it was."
His words spilled out in a rush, almost as if he couldn't stop them now that they were coming. Drew stood silent, listening as Ethan continued, his voice heavy with old bitterness.
"She trained me—forced me to go on missions, killing monsters, helping her attack and rob immortals who pissed her off, you name it. I didn't have a choice. I had to repay her for saving me. For being her son," he scoffed, his eyes darkening. "It was all survival. But she didn't care about me—just what I could do for her."
Drew stayed quiet, letting him pour it all out. She wasn't about to interrupt him. Not now.
"When I was twelve, I heard about Camp Half-Blood. They protect demigods, right? So, I thought maybe I could escape her. I thought I could have a normal life, like those other kids. But no. Chiron... he didn't let me in. Said I was too dangerous. Said he couldn't go against my mother's will."
Drew's jaw tightened as Ethan's voice cracked with anger. "My mother's a violent sea goddess. But Percy Jackson? He's fine, he's a son of Poseidon? Chiron lets him in without a problem. But me? I'm too much of a liability. So I had to go back to her. And that's when things got worse. More missions. More blood. More violence."
Drew's eyes softened as she stepped closer to him, her tone sharp as she spoke. "You think Percy's the golden boy because Chiron helped him?"
Ethan didn't answer at first. When he did, it was bitter, filled with years of unresolved frustration. "Yeah, it felt like it. Chiron helped that little bastard. But not me. He left me a child to deal with my mother, alone."
Drew's lips pressed into a thin line, her frustration growing. But she didn't let it show. "Ethan, do not compare yourself to Percy Jackson. You're not him, besides, I kind of like how messed up you are. You make things interesting after all there is a reason I kissed you earlier."
Ethan shook his head, biting back another remark, but Drew wasn't done. Without warning, she slapped him. Hard.
"I'm done listening to you sulk. It's time to stop feeling sorry for yourself, Ethan. You're better than this. What happened to the bad ass bounty hunter from Miami."
For a long while, Ethan didn't speak. He just stood there, staring at the water, as the tension between them slowly ebbed away. Finally, he sighed deeply, muttering, "You're unbelievable."
Drew smirked, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "Yeah, I know.